


A Future Apart

by MyDirtyLittleSecret



Category: Batman Beyond, Batman: The Animated Series
Genre: F/M, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-28
Updated: 2015-04-27
Packaged: 2018-03-26 03:42:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 17
Words: 54,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3835693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyDirtyLittleSecret/pseuds/MyDirtyLittleSecret
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The past meets the future when an accident bends the rules of time further than any could have ever thought possible.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters pertaining to "The New Batman Adventures" or "Batman Beyond." All characters are owned by Warner Bros. I just happen to be taking some liberties with it. ;) All information about the characters and for this fic belongs strictly to their respected websites.
> 
> A/N:This my first fic delving into these cartoons. I have always loved Batman and the new Batman Beyond series was awesome. I couldn't help but want to make a story about all my favorite characters in these cartoons. So I hatched a lovely little idea and here it is just for you all. I spent many months writing and preparing this story so I hope you all enjoy it as much as I have writing. Without any further ado here it is!

"Since lately in class we have been working on behavior patterns and human motivation, I have taken the pleasure of putting together a project for you all. You will be working in pairs. Since I have already paired most of you off at the beginning of the year I will just give you the assignment," Mrs. Whitman, the psychology teacher, declared to a class full of senior high school students early on a Thursday morning.

There were the usually groans and heavy sighs expected from the students. No one wanted a project to do so close to the end of the year. Everyone had plans, who wanted to waste their weekends and free time with a stupid project. Yet, Mrs. Whitman was notorious for giving students last minute projects and such.

"I wonder what she has in mind," Terry McGinnis muttered to his best friend and seat partner, Maxine Gibson.

Max shrugged and replied, softly. "Something you wouldn't have time to do anyway."

Terry shot her a dirty look. Terry "worked" for Bruce Wayne, who had once been Batman. Wayne had retired the cowl and passed it on to Terry. It was his job now to rid Gotham of its many villains and keep the city safe. It took up a lot of his time, ok, almost all of his time. He was lucky if he got any of his school work done. He was not happy that Max had made even a remote suggestion to his "job." Max and Bruce were the only ones who knew about his "secret life" and he meant to keep it that way.

"The project will be on the motives that drive law enforcers to take up such strenuous jobs such as a lawyer, cop, or-," Mrs. Whitman was cut off by someone in the back.

The student asked, "Or someone like Batman?"

"Yes, that is a good example," Mrs. Whitman replied. "I will give each pair a subject to work on. You must find out about this person's motives and behavior that drove him or her to do what they did. And since our city seems to be well known for our heroes, we will be using them as our subjects. Some of these people may go back as far as thirty years or more, so a few of you may have to do a little more research."

The usually groans filled the room again.

"I'd like you to write at least a 7 page research paper as well as give a presentation. They are both required to get a passing grade so no slacking off. The project is due in three weeks. If it is late...," she smiled, "well, you don't want it to be late."

She went around passing out the data cards with the assignments for each pair on them. Max took the card for her and Terry then slipped it into her computer. She scanned it slowly and her jaw slackened in surprise.

"You'll never believe this. Guess who she gave us," Max whispered.

"Who?" Terry asked, curiously.

She looked at him with an amazed expression. "Nightwing. One of Batman's old partners."

B.A.T.M.A.N.

Dick Grayson stood in a long line at the bank. He had only wanted to get some money out of his account to buy a few gadgets that needed replacing in his utility belt. He lived a double life as the black masked hero, Nightwing, by night and Dick Grayson by day. He had broken and used several of his more useful gadgets in the last few nights. He certainly could not go with out them. He had hoped this would be quick. Yet, here he was standing in a long line of people trying to cash in, take out, or borrow money so they could go on there spring vacations. He should have known better than to come now. He could track down villains and kick their butts, but he didn't know to stay away from the bank on a day like this. It was pathetic.

Suddenly, his cell phone rang in his pocket, making several of the people around him jump in surprise and turn to stare at him. He shook his head at them. He didn't think there was any other city that had citizens as paranoid as Gotham's- well maybe Metropolis. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and flipped it open. He growled softly when he saw who the caller I.D. identified it as. Should I really bother? he sighed to himself. He glanced up at the ceiling in resignation and answered it.

"Yeah?" he answered, with an irritated tone.

"Dick, it's me," Bruce Wayne's gruff voice replied.

"I know," he said, coolly.

Bruce was silent for a moment. "I need you to do something for me."

Dick wondered how much pain that had caused Bruce to say. The thought made him smirk in amusement. It was gone in less than a second. "Really, why can't Barbara?"

"She's on vacation with her father."

Dick sighed. "Right, what do you want?"

"I need you to go to Metropolis for me."

"What!" A few curious people turned in his direction. He immediately lowered his voice. "Why?"

"I got word that Scarecrow snuck over there. Apparently there are chemicals being shipped over to Metropolis that he needs for his newest fear drug. I guess he wanted to pick them up first hand," Bruce told him with a hint of sarcasm.

"Why can't you go?"

Dick could almost see Bruce rolling his eyes at him in annoyance and explained to him with a calm voice. "Because I also got word that a certain Mad Hatter is also on the loose here. I think the two are in league together, which requires further investigation. And I can't be in two places at once."

Dick sighed, frustrated. He really was in no mood to go Metropolis. Telling Bruce to get Superman on it was pointless. Bruce did not like to ask for Superman's help and apparently he felt strongly enough about those feelings to call Dick instead. Lord, what was the world coming to these days?

"Alright, Bruce," he gave in.

"Good. Take Tim with you," Bruce said. Dick could almost see the smug smile on his former mentor's face.

Dick made a choking sound. "Wait a minute! Why do I have to take the kid?" his voice had gotten loud again.

"He needs the experience," Bruce hung up before he could protest further.

Dick growled angrily and slammed the cell phone shut. He shoved the cell phone into his pocket, ignoring the looks of the people around him. They probably thought he'd just had a fight with his wife or girlfriend and most likely thought him some irresponsible jerk who did not care enough to look after his own child. He shook his head and glanced at his watch. He wasn't leaving until he got this money. He wasn't too thrilled about having to bring Tim along. It was not that he didn't like the kid. He did a lot, but he liked to work alone. Bruce was right though. Tim needed some more experience. The kid was still pretty green andliked to bite off more than he could chew in a fight. Still why did he have to be stuck with Tim?

It will certainly be more interesting, he thought with a sigh to himself.

B.A.T.M.A.N

"I can hardly believe this," Terry muttered.

Max shrugged. "It is a little freaky."

They were sitting in the cafeteria at their regular table, discussing their assignment for Psychology.

"Nightwing," sighed Terry. "All I know about him is the suit I see hanging in the Batcave. Bruce never says anything about him."

"I wonder why," Max thought out loud.

Terry shook his head. "He and Bruce weren't exactly on good terms. He was sort of the black sheep from what Barbara Gordon told me."

"Commissioner Gordon?" Max looked surprised.

"Yeah, she and the Nightwing guy used to go out a long time ago," he replied.

Max's mouth dropped open. "Schway!"

Terry shrugged.

"Do you think the old guy might help us out a little on this assignment?" Max asked.

Terry gave her an "are you out of your mind" look. "The day Bruce tells me anything is the day hell freezes over."

Max rolled her eyes. "Don't you think you're over doing it a bit?"

"Look, I'll try to talk to him. I probably won't get anything from him though. He's really touchy on those subjects," Terry warned her.

"I'll start digging around in the library's data banks for info," Max grinned. The internet was her domain. She could find anything if she had access to a computer.

"Hi, Terry," Dana Tan walked over to their table.

Terry turned in his seat and smiled at her. "Hey, Dana." Dana was his girlfriend but as of late their relationship had been a little... shaky from the time his "job" with Bruce had started. He had stood her up one too many times and she was starting to lose her patience with him.

"Guess who I got as my subject for the Psychology project," Dana grinned.

Terry glanced over at Max and they both shrugged. "Who?"Terry asked.

"The old Batman," She looked smug. "Chelsea and I are going to be doing the project together."

Terry blinked in surprise and forced himself to keep a blank expression. "That's schway, Dana. We got Nightwing, one of Batman's partners."

Dana waved her hand dismissing it. "He wasn't as good as Batman."

"Whatever you say, Dana," Max smiled, sweetly.

Dana gave her an irritated look. She was not to happy about Terry always eating lunch with Max. Dana usually sat with her friends, and kept trying to get Terry to sit with her. Terry always got out of it somehow. Most of the time by saying he just couldn't stand the girls' chatter about make up and clothes. Dana had her doubts about why Terry didn't want to sit with her and was always with Max.

"Are we still on for tonight?" Dana asked, with a 'you better not lie to me' tone.

Terry nodded a little too quickly. "Yeah, everything's schway."

"Good. Pick me up at 8?" Dana inquired, but it was more of an order.

"Yeah, I'll be there," Terry smiled, trying to pretend he hadn't noticed the nasty look she had given Max.

She smiled. "See you then." With that she turned and walked away.

Terry sighed and played with the food on his tray. Life was just getting to complicated. He needed a vacation.

B.A.T.M.A.N.

"Hey, Nightwing, are we gonna stand here and stare at the stars all night?" Robin asked for what felt like the hundredth time.

Nightwing rolled his eyes and tried to ignore his 15 year-old partner. It was not exactly easy to do with Robin bugging him every minute or so. "Now, I know why Bruce stuck me with you. You're a pain in the butt!"

"Well, I'd like to see a little action sometime tonight!" Robin exclaimed in an exasperated tone.

"Didn't he ever teach you what patience was?"

Robin shrugged. "It's not one of my strong points."

"I couldn't tell," Nightwing muttered to himself.

There was a moment of silence.

"So are we going?" Robin asked, hopefully.

"Look!" Nightwing snapped, giving him a death glare, "Hunting for Scarecrow isn't like hunting for a McDonalds, especially in a city like Metropolis!"

Robin sighed heavily and dropped his chin into his hand, leaning on the building's edge. "I'm surprised Superman hasn't shown up to pay us a visit. We've been here long enough."

Nightwing ignored him and stared out at the vast city of Metropolis. His brow creased as he frowned thoughtfully. How was he to find one insane maniac in a city this huge? It was much larger than Gotham and had about twice as many people. Where would Scarecrow go in a city like this? The possibilities were endless. It would have been nice if Bruce had give him a hint or two.

"Let's see, if you were Scarecrow where would you go?" Robin wondered aloud, as though he was reading his mind.

"Somewhere with the kind of chemicals and things I need in easy reach. A place I could make my new fear drug," Nightwing thought out loud.

This was something he and Robin did often when they were stumped. If both voiced their thoughts and opinions they were more likely to find a solution faster than with just one working on the puzzle alone. It had become sort of a game for them.

"Exactly," Robin grinned, then looked puzzled. "What place would fit that description?"

"I've got it!" Nightwing snapped his fingers and smiled. "Star Labs. It's got everything he needs and more. Why didn't I think of it before?"

Robin straightened up and grinned in excitement. At last they could go somewhere. He'd waited long enough for a little action. "Let's go!" he exclaimed in enthusiastically.

Nightwing blew out his breath and shook his head. "Bruce, I hate you," he murmured to himself.

B.A.T.M.A.N.

At two in the morning, Star Labs was deserted of all scientists that normally occupied its gleaming white halls. The building was locked down with maximum security. No one could get in or out…at least that was what the security guards thought. One guard sat in front of a desk with several TV monitors, which were hooked to the security cams, in front of him. He had fallen asleep to the drone of the radio in the background and a newspaper crossword lay abandoned on his chest. He did not see one of the screens go to static suddenly.

Down on the north side, several halls away, a gloved hand touched a window experimentally. There was no response from the alarms. The system on that end of the building was down. The window was quickly pried open and there was a clatter as something was knocked over. It went unnoticed by anyone who might have been nearby.

A door opened slowly and a masked face peered out cautiously. Nothing stirred as the black shadow slid out into the halls, poised for danger. A smaller version followed, white eyes darting about swiftly. The halls were silent, almost to the point of being eerily so. As dark and shapeless as phantoms, the two moved down the halls. They scrutinized each room they passed thoroughly, not missing a thing.

"He's not here, Nightwing!" the smaller shadow grumbled quietly.

An almost inaudible voice answered. "He's here."

Robin looked around with a confused expression as he opened his mouth to say something. Nightwing had vanished from sight. He jumped when Nightwing seemed to materialize in front of him. He got a toothy grin in response for his skittish reaction. He growled quietly. He hated it when Nightwing did that to him!

The came finally to the south end of Star Labs, and found the main laboratory. The double doors were standing partially open, swinging on their hinges. Nightwing paused in front of the door, listening intently. Robin nervously pulled out a baterang, ready for anything. If Scarecrow was at Star Labs he would have to be in there. Nightwing, gingerly, pushed the door open and slunk in. To the left was a door leading to the main offices for the scientists. To the right were a line of doors that contained several smaller laboratories. What was in the main room, though, was what interested Nightwing the most. Towards the back of the large room were two ominous looking pillars with bulbs on top buzzing with electricity. Nightwing stared hard between the pillars and thought he saw a hazy image of another place. Off to the side, a control panel was set up for the pillars, a few beeps and blinking lights came from it.

Nightwing walked in a little further, looking around warily. Robin followed close on his heels, not wanting to be left behind. Suddenly, the familiar click of a gun being cocked came from behind them, freezing them in their tracks.

"That's far enough," a low, raspy voice growled.

They turned slowly around, hands raised, to face their adversary. Robin hid his baterang in his half fisted hand, as he turned, hiding it from view. Nightwing's hands twitched as if he wanted to throw himself at the tall, lanky figure in the doorway and strangle him. Scarecrow moved further into the room with a satisfied smile on his grotesque face. Robin shifted anxiously, beside Nightwing, with anticipation.

"I have been waiting," Scarecrow remarked. "I had expected you much sooner."

Neither of the maskedvigilantes said anything. Nightwing was mentally cursing himself for not having seen this coming. He must be losing his touch. He moved, obediently, as Scarecrow herded them toward the pillars. They stopped in front of the pillars and watched Scarecrow move over to the control panel. Scarecrow pressed several of the blinking buttons and the pillars began to glow. Nightwing felt a tingle race down his spin, as the buzzing from the pillars increased.

Robin took advantage of Scarecrow's momentary distraction to snap open his baterang. He glanced over at Nightwing, who nodded the go-ahead signal and got ready to spring. Robin flung the baterang as hard as could. It spun through the air, straight for Scarecrow's gun hand. Scarecrow caught the flicker of black metal flying at him and dodged sideways. The baterang imbedded itself into the control panel, sending sparks flying in bright flash. Scarecrow stumbled back, blinded for a brief moment. That was all the time Nightwing needed. Scarecrow never saw him coming untilNightwing hit him like an avenging panther.

Nightwing grabbed Scarecrow by the front of his costume and slammed him into the control panel sending more sparks into the air. They fought wildly, one trying to knock the gun free and the other trying to keep it. Robin stood back, afraid to jump in for fear of being hit by his partner in the fury of the fight. Scarecrow threw Nightwing back and swung the gun up to bear on him. He managed to get off a quick shot before Nightwing came flying back at him. The vigilante faltered in mid-leap as the bullet took him high in the shoulder. He stumbled back as a wave of dizziness swept through him, overriding even the pain. Scarecrow swung around his cane, clubbing him over the head and following it up with a sweeping kick that flung Nightwing towards the pillars. He managed to skid to a stop just before he hit the hazy image between the pillars.

Robin sprang forward at Scarecrow, but he was no match for the lanky man. Robin hardly slowed Scarecrow down before he was sent spinning into the wall. Scarecrow whirled on Nightwing and with one swift swing of his cane, he sent the stunned combatant sailing between the pillars. There was a sharp crackle of electricity before Nightwing disappeared from view. The last thing he heard was Robin shouting his name.


	2. Chapter 2

One second he was on solid ground, then the next he was falling. He flailed his arms and legs in the air, in a panicked attempt to find something to stop his fall. His vision was blurred from the blow to the head he had received. He fell head over heels, and for a brief moment he thought he was going to die. His life did not flash before his eyes but his mind seemed to freeze with terror. He was certain any moment the ground would rush up to meet him and he would become like the poor little road kill animals, a splatter on the pavement. He could just envision the headlines on tomorrow's front page of the newspaper

"Mysterious Crime-Fighter, Nightwing, Dies in Tragic Fall!"

He shook his head, clearing out the thoughts of worst case scenarios and forced himself to calm down. He rolled in mid-air, getting his feet back under him, and flipped out his gliders. Immediately, his descent slowed, gaining more control of his falling. He was beginning to feel his fear slip away when, to his great surprise, a car flew by almost hitting him. His concentration faltered and he lost control of his gliders. His eyes widened as he opened his mouth to yell just before he slammed into the roof of another car. The car's speed sent him spinning through the air, throwing him into a nearby building. All the air escaped from his lungs in a painful whoosh as he slammed into a huge ornate window. He twisted around, madly, grappling for a handhold—any hand hold!

His hands finally caught a ledge on the building. He hung there suspended in mid-air, for a second, relieved by his good fortune. He painfully hauled himself up and collapsed onto his back. He lay there gasping for breath, as tried to regain his senses. He was vaguely aware of the sharp pain in his left shoulder and arm. His entire body felt like a stampede of cattle had run over him. After a long moment, he slowly sat up to inspect his arm. It was gashed open from half way down his upper arm to his elbow. It must have happened when he slammed into the building or that car. He looked at his shoulder to see a dart buried deep in his flesh. It had not been a bullet but it sure as hell had felt like one. Thankfully, it had not gone as deeply as a bullet would have. He grabbed it and clenched his teeth–bracing himself. With a swift yank, he tugged it free. He flinched violently before glaring at the offending object. It had a wicked looking long needle on it. He shuddered, dropping it beside him. He felt the blood from the gash trickling down his fingers and wrapped his hand around it, trying to staunch its flow. As he did so he took a look around him in hopes of figuring out where he was.

The ledge he had crawled onto was four feet wide and several more feet long. It was incredibly dark on the ledge, no street lights touched it up here. The buildings he could see where very tall and oddly shaped. It had the same dark feel that Gotham did but everything was more cheerful looking even at night as though it were trying to deny the sinister feeling that still hung in the air. Cars flew back and forth overhead between the buildings while more cars drove on the roads on the ground far below. He could see the small shapes of people traversing the streets as well. Still all this gave him no clue as to just where he was. The sight of flying cars was still greatly disturbing.

He heard a rush of wind in the air above him setting his sense immediately on edge. His keen eyes searched the darkened sky above him for anything suspicious. He caught sight of a large black shape flying down towards him. It would be on him in a minute. He scrambled up onto his feet, ignoring the pain and the dizziness. Before he could do anything else the black figure landed on the ledge only a few feet from him. He crouched down, fists ready and teeth bared in a grimace of pain.

"Whoa," a quiet male voice spoke soothingly.

He saw two black gloved hands come up where he could see them. The black being was easily discerned to be human now. Two white eyes stared back at him, glowing eerily in the dark like his must be. What looked like some large red symbol stood out perfectly in the dark like a beacon. It almost seemed to be suspended in mid-air from how well the other blended with the night. He tensed and had a birdarang out in less than a second as the stranger took a cautious step forward.

"Stop right there!" he snarled, his voice pitched lower than normal.

The black stranger froze instantly and his hands twitched as if he was fighting the impulse to leap at him. The two regarded each other a long moment, each wondering what should be done. They could not stay here all night in a stand off. Nightwing saw the other's eyes glance down at his torn arm. Even in the dark it was easy to see the glistening of blood flowing down his arm. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out he was hurt.

"I only want to help," the stranger tried to soothe him again, moving another step closer.

"I don't need you help. And if you get any closer you'll have this embedded in your forehead," Nightwing threatened, tightening his grip on the birdarang.

The guy edged a little closer. "Please, let me-"

"I warned you," Nightwing said, simply, and then hurled the birdarang at his head.

As he ducked, Nightwing leapt over the edge and free fell through the air. He enjoyed the gut wrenching thrill of diving head first toward the pavement before flipping out his gliders. Funny, how exciting it could be when you were actually in control of the falling. He soared downward, and pulled up out of his dive only a few dozen meters from the ground. He glanced behind him to see the black costumed man still watching him. At least the guy was not trying to follow him. He flew out of sight behind a building and didn't stop until he felt that he had enough distance between them.

B.A.T.M.A.N.

Batman turned away from the retreating form of the masked man he had just encountered. He stared at the strange baterang wedged in the wall, thinking how close that it had come to hitting him. He took a deep breath, calming his pounding heart. He counted his blessings that the suit made his reflexes quick enough. He reached up and yanked the baterang free from the wall. He touched his fingers to the side of his mask, triggering the hidden microphone.

"Did you get all that?" he spoke, quietly.

"Yes," Bruce's voice answered in his ear. "Unfortunately I could not get a good look at him."

He held up the bird-shaped baterang in front of his eyes for Bruce to see. His mask sent a feed back of what he was holding to Bruce's computer so that he could see what Batman was seeing. "What do you think of this?"

"That looks like one of the older models," Bruce remarked.

"Yeah, and that guy had gliders like mine. He seemed to be hurt pretty badly and had a spiz-fit when I tried to help," he told Bruce.

There was a pause. "A what?"

"A spiz-fit. You know…to spaz out or go crazy?" he rolled his eyes.

He thought he heard a sigh of resignation from the other end.

"See if there was anything left behind," Bruce grumbled.

Batman shook his head before searching the ledge. He found a small puddle of blood–still wet. He took a sample and stuck it in his utility belt. He found a small dart that had been discarded which was blooded as well. One more quick look around then he was done. There was nothing else of much use.

"Alright, I'm heading back." He told Bruce. "I've got a few things for you to play with."

B.A.T.M.A.N.

Bruce met up with Terry at the landing area in the Bat Cave . Terry hopped out of the Batmobile then pealed off his mask with a sigh. He dug around in his belt and pulled out the things he had found on the ledge. Bruce snatched the package out of his hand with out a word. Terry followed after Bruce grumbling quietly under his breath, as the old man walked back toward the computer. He side stepped Ace, the bathhound, as he hurried to keep up with Bruce. Even with a cane the old man was fast. Bruce still hadn't said one word to him since he got back. He was beginning to feel a little worried when Bruce broke the silence.

"This stranger, describe him for me," Bruce said, curtly, holding up the odd baterang under the light.

Terry blinked in surprise before answering. "He was wearing black," he answered with a grin. Bruce gave him a dirty look. Terry coughed to cover his snickering, "He had long black hair and a half mask, which only covered his nose and eyes. I couldn't really see anything else except that there might have been some sort of blue symbol on the chest of his costume," Terry pointed to the same place the red bat was on his chest. "And he had a really bad gash on his arm."

Bruce just continued to stare at the batarang as Terry spoke until he had the distinct feeling that he was talking to a brick wall. He hated it when Bruce did this to him. He ran a hand through his coal black hair in annoyance, blowing out a deep breath. Without warning, Bruce turned and walked over to the display cases that held the old Batman, Batgirl, Robin, and Nightwing costumes. He moved to the case that held the Nightwing suit and pulled it open. There was a quiet sound of the air being released from the inside, as the glass door swung open. Bruce reached into the utility belt. In less than a second, he pulled out a black object that looked familiar to Terry. There was a soft snap and the thing unfolded into the identical version of the baterang Terry had nearly had thrown through his forehead. His jaw dropped as he stared at it in surprise.

"So this belonged to Nightwing?" Terry pointed at the one he'd found.

Bruce shrugged, answering darkly. "I doubt it. Someone must have learned how to replicate them."

"So you're saying we have a guy that is running around pretending to be Nightwing, indulging in secret fantasies of being a hero?" Terry grinned.

Bruce quirked his eyebrow up at him before answering. "I don't know. I'll find out once I check out this blood sample. That might take a few hours though."

Terry followed him back toward the computer. "You know that is kinda weird," he muttered half to himself.

"What's weird?" Bruce turned to give him a "what are talking about" look.

"Well, this morning in Psych. Class, our teacher gave us this project to do. A project to look up all these old heroes and cops to find out what their motivations were behind why they chose their profession," Terry explained.

Bruce shrugged. "So?"

"I find it kinda weird that all that happened tonight is linked to Nightwing, when I was given Nightwing as the subject for my project," Terry finished.

Bruce actually looked surprised (Not something that happened to often.). "You were assigned Nightwing?"

Terry nodded. "Which reminds me, I wanted to ask you about him anyway."

"Forget it," Bruce turned away.

"C'mon, Bruce, anything you can tell me would help out a lot."

"No!"

Terry sighed. "Just give me a name! Anything!"

Bruce shook his head, and his shoulders slumped further foreword. "Dick Grayson."

"Thank you," Terry said, sincerely.

Bruce grunted in reply. Terry rolled his eyes. So much for a heart felt "you're welcome, Terry." Oh well, he probably would have died from shock if Bruce had said something like that. He at least had a name to go on now. That was more than he'd had before.

B.A.T.M.A.N.

Max reached up and answered the phone on the third ring from her position on the rug. She was lying stretched out on her back with her legs propped up on the couch, watching the television upside down. It was an odd position but she was comfortable, and she wasn't really watching the TV anyway. There never was anything interesting playing on the TV on a Thursday night.

"Hello?"

"Hey Max! It's Terry."

Max rolled over onto her stomach. "Hey, Ter."

"Good news. I did get something from the old man."

Max's eyes went wide with shock. "Schway. Are you sure the old man was feeling alright?"

Terry chuckled. "No. Anyways, he gave me a name."

"Well?"

"His name was Dick Grayson," Terry told her.

Max forced herself not to snicker.

"Yeah, I know," she could almost see the grin on Terry's face. "Get you're mind out of the gutter."

"Alright, first thing tomorrow morning at school I'll look him up. Meet me in the computer lab at lunch time. We can work on our project then," Max replied.

"Sure, sounds great. Talk to you then. Bye, Max," he answered.

Max smiled. "Ok, bye Terry."

She hung up and rolled over onto her back once more. What kinda name was Dick Grayson? She shrugged to herself. She would find out more about this character tomorrow. For now, though, she was going to relax.


	3. Chapter 3

Max sat in front of a computer at school pouring over the city records, trying to find anything and everything she could find on Dick Grayson. All that she had managed to dig up though had left her more and more confused, because all the records stopped in the same place. None of them went any further then a short time after his twenty-fifth birthday. It was as though Grayson had disappeared or no longer existed beyond that point. There was nothing. No records or documents anywhere. How or why this had happened was not in the least bit conceivable.

She sat there drumming her fingers on the keyboard in frustration. She had searched every record she could think of, there was no other sources she could use. Nothing. No traces of driver's licenses, place of residences, or last known jobs. He had just disappeared. No one should be able to disappear so thoroughly. It didn't add it up.

"Hey Max!" Terry strode in and sat down beside her.

She lifted her gaze up from the screen to give him a weak, tired smile. "Hey, Ter."

"You look exhausted," he remarked, handing her a bottle of Coke.

"Thank you, Captain Obvious," Max smirked and took the Coke with a grateful smile.

Terry grinned. "It takes years of practice to become this good."

She shook her head before turning back to the computer screen.

"Any luck on our 'project'?" Terry asked, conspiratorially

Max sighed. "I've looked up everything I could on Dick Grayson but all the records cut off at the same friggin' point! It's like this guy just erased himself from existence after his twenty-fifth birthday!"

"Frustrated?" Terry smiled.

"Not in the least," Max couldn't help but smile back.

Terry gave her a minute to calm down before asking. "So what do we know so far?"

"Well…"

She pulled up an old picture from a newspaper dated back more than thirty years ago. It was the picture of a young boy of about eleven or twelve years in age. The boy had his face buried in a much younger Bruce Wayne's coat. A little of the boy's face showed. They could see the tears streaking the youth's cheeks. His raven black hair was dirty and spiked up messily from sweat. The boy's face dark eyes were wide with fear and horror. Both teens felt a chill race down their spins at the intensity of that look in the eyes of a child.

"Richard 'Dick' Grayson," Max read from the city files, "Was in a traveling circus's high wire act called "The Flying Graysons." Grayson witnessed his parents' death, at the hands of an extortionist named Tony Zucco, who cut the wire during a performance at Haley Circus to gain revenge from the circus owner. Bruce Wayne was in the audience the night of the Grayson's unfortunate death and took the boy in. He later adopted Dick Grayson as well as provided the boy with a home at Wayne Manor, financial support and a good education, including college at Gotham University. Grayson later left to "travel the world," as he called it in one interview, and returned back to Gotham two years later to set up residence in again Gotham City . Then everything cuts off from there, only a few months after he came back to Gotham."

"And I thought my life was bad," Terry muttered. "At least I still have my mom. I didn't see my dad die."

Max found another picture of a handsome fifteen year old Dick Grayson. His eyes were bright and showed no signs of the fear that had been in there in the last picture. His smile was genuinely happy. His hair was clean and cut into the styles of the time. Not a trace of the sad boy was there.

"Honor student with high grades. Mostly As and Bs," she whistled appreciatively, "And really high testing scores. Good lord! Voted mostly likely to succeed when he graduated, but then he was the adopted son of a billionaire."

"Bruce is a tough taskmaster. I can see why Dick did so well. He probably wasn't allowed to settle for second best," Terry remarked.

Max frowned. "Harsh."

Another picture came up. It was taken a few days after his twenty-fifth birthday, after college and world travel. It looked like an almost entirely different person. His face had matured while becoming much more solemn. There was no smile on his face, his eyes were hard with the look of someone who had seen too many terrible things during his life, and his hair was long, pulled back into a ponytail. He looked serious, but despite it all he was still handsome–or at least Max thought so.

"I wonder what happened to him," Max wondered aloud. "That's quite a dramatic change."

Terry shrugged. "Bruce had something to do with it."

Max looked up at him. "Why do you say that?"

"Max, this guy picked up and left without so much as a good bye or whatever. He just went. There was a good reason for it. Trust me, Bruce played a role in it. He's really good at pissing people off," Terry explained.

"That's kinda sad," Max commented.

Terry nodded. "Yeah."

There was a long pause.

"Oh yeah!" Terry sat up straighter.

Max gave him an odd look.

"Something happened last night while I was out. I thought you might find it interesting," he said.

He leaned in closer and lowered his voice, telling her everything that had happened. When he was down he sat back and let her think it over for a moment.

"That's quite a story," she muttered. "You said he had a baterang just like one of Nightwing's?"

"Yep."

Max shook her head. "Strange that this is happening now."

"Yeah, that's what I thought. It's probably just coincidence but it's still freaky," Terry smiled.

Max nodded. "Well, c'mon. I don't know about you but I'm hungry. I need some food before I starve."

"Alright, but I'm not guaranteeing you anything good. Cafeteria's serving mysterious meat for lunch today," Terry grinned.

"Well, you know that is my favorite," Max shot back, walking out of the computer lab and Terry slammed the door shut behind her.

"Riiiiiiiiiight."

B.A.T.M.A.N.

The night was calm and quiet for a Friday evening, as Batman flew low over the building of downtown Gotham. Nothing had happened all evening and he was beginning to get seriously bored. He was hoping he'd get to go home early that tonight. He had a lot of homework to get done. He also wanted to catch up on some sleep he'd lost during the week. Unfortunately, it was right as those thoughts were passing through his mind that Bruce decided to call him. He had hoped to soon–as always.

"Terry?"

"Yeah?" he sighed.

"The police just got a report on a disturbance only a few blocks from where you are," Bruce told him.

Batman tried not to roll his eyes. "What kinda disturbance?"

When Bruce answered this time he could hear the amusement in the old man's voice. "Apparently a small gang of Jokerz broke into a bakery shop. They stole some money and other assorted things."

"Donuts?" Batman grinned, and then snickered. "That's really sad. Business must be getting pretty bad for them lately."

"Just go check it out," Bruce said, impatiently.

"Alright! Alright, don't get your panties in a bunch!" Batman shot back and steered the Batmobile in the direction that Bruce had indicated. This should be fun.

B.A.T.M.A.N.

Nightwing groaned and opened his eyes. The loud shouts and laughter echoed down the alley below where he was sitting. He had stopped for a rest in his wanderings on the ledge of an old abandoned building. He had not meant to fall asleep there, but more than twenty-four hours without sleep had caught up to him. It was a stupid, rather dangerous thing for him to have done. He did not know this city or who might have found him by chance. He stretched or tried to before his arm shot a wave of pain up through him. It would not be fully healed again for a while. He had tended to it as best as could with his limited supplies.

The hoots and hollering grew louder as the small gang of teens moved down the alley. It sounded like no more than five or six people, but he couldn't be sure. He leaned further over the ledge for a better look then smirked. The kids were all dressed up like clowns. One even looked like the Joker. None of them appeared to be any older than 18. He slipped down from his perch onto the fire escape below. He climbed down carefully, making sure to keep out of sight, until he reached the ground. He crouched down by a dumpster, listening to them boast. From their talk it didn't take long to find out that they had just robbed a bakery shop of its money, as well as a nice big bag of donuts which they were currently eating.

Ahhh…gluttony. One of the seven deadly sins, he smiled to himself.

"None of those stupid cops will catch us. They'll be chasin' their own tails for hours!" the supposed leader (the one that was dressed like Joker) of the little gang of clowns laughed and his minions joined in.

Nightwing shook his head before remarking, loudly, from his position in the shadows. "That's pathetic. I thought kids your age were to old for playing dress up."

They all froze and looked around trying to find the person to which the voice belonged to.

"Ha ha! That's real cute!" the leader snapped, pulling out a gun. "Come out and show yourself! Then you won't be laughing when I get through with you."

"Youlook like you belong at a little kid's birthday party," Nightwing went on in a nonchalant manner, ignoring the leader. He sighed loudly as he darted from shadow to shadow. They were turning in all directions trying to keep him in sight but he seemed to melt into the darkness around him.

"Quit hiding from us! Or are you scared to show yourself?" the leader yelled, angrily.

Nightwing didn't pay him any attention. "I've seen Halloween costumes that looked better than yours."

"You don't know who you're messin' with pal!" one girl with pigtails and a big painted smile across her face shouted. "We're the Jokerz!"

"Is that so? That's a very cute name," he grinned. "Did you make it up yourself?"

A beefy black character held up his fists menacingly. "What's the matter, dreg? You scared to get beat!"

Nightwing sneered as he stepped out of the shadows. "I guess this is the only way you'll ever see me. Not the most observant of people I've ever met."

They all turned in his direction, ready to maim him now. Their leader stepped forward, holding his gun before him and the donut bag in the other hand. He eyed Nightwing warily, taking in his outfit and the blue bird across his chest. The "Joker" didn't seem too confident in his use of the gun as he pretended to be. Nightwing shook his head.

Pitiful.

"You know you got a big mouth, bird brain," the "Joker" snapped. "It's gonna get you in trouble."

Nightwing smiled, sarcastically, and his eyes flicked down to the bag in the guy's hand. His stomach felt like it was digesting itself, reminding him that it had been quite sometime since he'd eaten last. The "Joker" saw his eyes shift to the bag and smiled, nastily.

"Awww…is it hungry?" the guy held out the bag to him.

Nightwing glared back at him. "Sad."

He leapt forward into a flip that landed him only inches from the "Joker." In less than a second, he had the guy laid out on his back on the ground, groaning. The donut bag had gone spinning in to the air. He caught it deftly. He stepped back from the "Joker" and held up the bag tauntingly. He bowed with a flourish at the other Jokerz, who were staring at him in shock. The beefy guy recovered first and ran at him, fists swinging. He jumped back before he swept "Beefy" off his feet. The rest of the gang came after him, angry at seeing their leader get his butt kicked and eager to get him back for it. He had messed with one, now he had to deal with them all.

He dodged and flipped, kicking and punching. One by one they all went flying or fell. It was too easy. He was enjoying it immensely. Though he didn't really understand why. The last one standing was a gangly guy, who looked too scared even to hit him. He took a step toward him, and the scrawny kid backed away. He smirked as he took another step, then froze. His smirk slipped from his face, as white hot pain exploded through him and raced down his spin like fire. His chest felt like it was constricting. He gasped for air, feeling like he couldn't get enough. He clenched his fists as pain shot through the rest of his body and down his limps. Darkness seemed to be closing in around his vision. Voices whispered inside his head, whispering things to him, "Kill him!" "Hurt him!" "Let him die!"

Suddenly, a blow to his stomach caused him to double over. The scrawny guy had taken advantage of his momentary pause to start pummeling him. He took another blow to the face, stumbling backward from the force. Before he knew what he was doing he had turned on the scrawny guy. His fist shot out, catching the skinny clown in the jaw, and following it up with a punch to the stomach. He gave back what he had been given with cold satisfaction. All his previous pain had been forgotten and all he wanted was vengeance. He grabbed the clown by the throat then hauled him up from where he had been cowering on the ground. The voices in his head became louder.

Kill him! Kill him! Kill him!

He felt a dark surge of energy rush through him and he grinned wolfishly. His grip tightened around the clown's neck. The guy began to whimper, sobbing for breath, thrashing to get free. Nightwing relished the clown's fear and fed on it, feeling stronger from it. He lifted the clown off his feet-

"Stop!"

A shout broke the spell that had fallen over him. Nightwing blinked, staring up at the clown in surprise. The darkness closing in on him disappeared and he shook his head. He let go of the guy, who collapsed onto the pavement, moaning and shaking. Nightwing looked up to see the same black costumed man from the night before running towards him. He was in no mood for another confrontation with that one. He turned, snatching up the bag of donuts that he had dropped during the fight, and ran. He leapt back up the fire escape then disappeared over the top of the building before the vigilante could catch him.

He stopped several buildings away to catch his breath. What had happened back there! One minute he was fine and the next ready to kill someone. He had no idea what had made him do that. He was shaking from head to foot by what he had almost done. He was no killer. What came over him? He remembered the voices egging him on, encouraging him! They had wanted him to kill.

He massaged his temples and sighed. He needed somewhere to rest for the night. Maybe the lack of sleep was getting to him. He doubted it though. He had never reacted that way before from sleep deprivation. Why should he start acting that way now? It made no sense. He shoved it all to the back of his mind and took off to find a safe place.

He found an abandoned apartment complex close by. Many of the windows were boarded up and those that weren't had broken panes of glass in them. It was run down looking, but quiet and no one seemed to want to get near it. He wondered briefly why, but he really didn't care. He searched until he found a window he could pry open and slipped in. The room he was in smelled musty, dirty, and full of cobwebs but it was warm and safe. He could rest here a while. He pushed all other problems plaguing him to the back of his mind. All he cared about was getting some sleep and some food in his stomach. He settled down in a corner and began to eat.

B.A.T.M.A.N.

Batman skidded to a stop, watching the elusive black stranger disappear over the top of the building. That was the second time he'd seen that guy and both times had failed to catch him. It was really annoying. Whoever that guy was he was good. Batman turned to survey the sprawled out unconscious bodies of the Jokerz.

Yeah, really good.

He heard a faint whimper and turned to see a skinny guy dressed as one of the Jokerz cowering on the ground. He recognized him as the one the black stranger had been holding up by the neck. The poor clown was shaking and sniveling, staring up at him to terrified to move. Batman stepped gingerly over one fallen Jokerz member to get to the wimpy guy.

"Who did this?" he asked quietly, trying not to scare him more.

"I-I dunno!" the guy squeaked. "He-He was a-all in b-b-black with a big b-blue bird on his chest."

Batman blinked in surprise. A blue bird?

"He took us all out, man! He-He was gonna k-kill me!" the guy was shaking harder. "He was! I-I could see it in his face!"

Batman patted the air with one hand in a soothing motion. "Calm down, pal. He's gone."

That stranger had looked ready to kill. Why else would you hold someone else up by the neck and try to choke him? He could see the finger prints bruised onto the guy's neck. Only someone pretty strong could hold up a full grown man then try to choke him. Batman sighed and turned to stare back up at the top of the building. He did not like having a psycho on the loose that he didn't even know. The stranger had already tried to put a baterang through his head!

"What did he take?" he asked, carefully.

"D-Donuts," the guy stammered.

Batman couldn't help smiling. All this for a bag of donuts, it was pretty hard to believe especially when there was still a full bag of money laying on the ground not far away. It was all to strange for him to figure out. Hopefully, Bruce would have some answers by now.


	4. Chapter 4

Nightwing stirred as an ambulance went screaming by beneath the apartment building; it's alarm wailing like some dying animal in the stillness. He opened his eyes and stretched out his legs then his arms. His whole body felt stiff and sore from sleeping in an awkward position. He'd probably be feeling cramps in his legs for days. His arm throbbed angrily but he ignored it. He glanced around to make sure everything was exactly the way it was when he went to sleep. When he was satisfied he relaxed back against the wall.

Late afternoon sun streamed in through cracked window panes. Dust moots danced in the air between sunbeams, causing him to sneeze. Everything was calm and he liked it like that. He checked his injured arm to see that it was healing properly. It was still very painful. The fight last night had reopened the gash. He did not have the things he needed to take care of it. He had used the rest of what little first aid materials he carried with him last night. As long as he didn't get it infected it should be alright until he could find what he needed.

He pulled the bag of donuts over to him, peering into it. There was enough there for another two meals if need be. He picked up a plain one and sat back to enjoy it. As he munched, he tried to go over all his options. He needed to find out where he was. He was at risk not knowing anything about the city he was currently residing in. Somehow he had to change out of his costume as well. He had to be able to move about more freely and his costume did not exactly allow him to do so. He didn't think shop owners would love to have him walk in all blooded up as well as wearing a mask. It wouldn't go down to well. They would mostly likely call the cops on him. He also needed some real food. As much as a he loved donuts he couldn't live off them forever.

Maybe if he could find a bank he could get some money and get a few the things he required. This idea brought him back to the problem of where he was. He had no clue where he was supposed to look for a bank in this city. This city felt like Gotham, and reminded him of Gotham besides some major differences. Perhaps, it was just his want to go back home that was making him see this city that way. This place was different. He remembered the Jokerz and that dude with the red bat on his outfit. If this was Gotham what had happened to it?

He turned his gaze back to the window. Judging by the light it was nearly sun rise. He would hang out here for another few hours before heading back out. Maybe this time he'd find some of the answers he needed.

B.A.T.M.A.N.

Terry walked into the Batcave and dropped his backpack on the examining table. It had been a hard day down at the library with Max, looking up every bit of information they could find on Nightwing. It was the same with Nightwing's files as it had been with Dick Grayson's. They all stopped in the same place. Nightwing's last known appearance had been in Metropolis. Everything about Nightwing seemed to be complicated. His brain felt close to overloading from so many things having been absorbed into it in such a short amount of time.

He scratched Ace behind the ears before heading toward Bruce. The old man was sitting in his usual spot in front of the Bat computer console. He stopped beside the computer and leaned casually against it. Bruce gave him a withering look and he immediately stood up straight again.

"You're late," was all Bruce said in greeting.

Terry rolled his eyes. "You're lucky I'm here at all. My mom was threatening to make me stay home to watch my little brother later tonight. Thankfully Max took the job for me."

Bruce grunted in reply. Terry took that as a good sign.

"So is that blood analysis finished?" Terry broke the uncomfortable silence; well it was uncomfortable for him. Bruce could go for hours without saying a word. Terry would die if he had to.

Bruce sighed and sat back in his chair. "Yes, but with some unexpected results."

Terry waited a long moment for Bruce to elaborate on the subject, but the old man sat as silent as ever.

"Unexpected…?" Terry prompted.

"The blood is matched to someone that has been considered to be dead for 30 years," Bruce looked much older than normal.

"Who?"

Bruce looked up at him. Terry was surprised to see a mixture of emotions in those eyes that was rarely ever there. Bruce leaned over and hit a key on the computer. A picture popped up on screen and Terry's mouth fell open. "Nightwing."

Terry stared at the picture of the long black haired, stern faced young hero he had been researching about all day. He was stunned into a silence for a long moment. "But he's dead, you said so yourself!"

Bruce nodded.

"Then how? That guy couldn't have been him!" Terry felt like his brain was now close to exploding. "Maybe someone stole some of his blood or his corpse or something and cloned him–!"

"Impossible," Bruce broke in.

"What?"

"His body was never buried or recovered," Bruce stated. "And all previous blood he ever donated has long since been distributed."

Terry stared at him dumbly for a moment before blowing up. "You said he was dead! If there's no body that means this guy could still be alive?"

"I said he was considered to be dead."

Terry shook his head in disbelief. "So you're saying there's a possibility this might be the real Nightwing!"

Bruce gazed up at him unperturbed. "Possibly, but I highly doubt it."

Terry gave him a "you-must-be-insane" look. "And why is that?"

"The circumstances under which Nightwing disappeared were very suspicious. It is hard to determine whether he might have lived through it or not, but seeing as he hasn't been seen for thirty years, I think he's dead," Bruce replied.

Terry just felt even more confused. "Disappeared? Like gone without a trace, which would explain why all his records all stop in the same place?" Terry knew he must sound crazy but he didn't care.

Bruce nodded again.

"What circumstances are you talking about?" Terry sighed, forcing himself to calm down and think clearly.

Bruce answered quietly. "It is all very unclear, but I will try to explain it to the best of my knowledge."

He quickly explained to Terry all that had taken place up to the moment of Nightwing's disappearance. It was all rather sketchy and vague at points since the story had been given to Bruce by Robin. Terry was pretty sure he understood the basics of it though, but it didn't make the situation any less confusing. When Bruce was finished there was a long moment of silence.

"So you think that machine threw Nightwing into another dimension?"

"Yes, that is what it was created for. Superman told me that Lois Lane had been sent through it once before and came back alive. I don't know what happened to Nightwing," Bruce replied.

There was another long pause.

"Is it possible that this machine could be made to throw someone into the future, like a time machine? It can obviously do dimensions, so what's keeping it from doing time travel?" Terry began paced back and forth contemplating this aloud. He felt as if all he had done all evening was ask questions.

"It could be, yes, but there's no way of knowing," Bruce remarked.

Terry gave him an exasperated look.

"Star Labs has been closed for two decades. There's no knowing if the machine still works or is even still there. We can't test it to find out if you're theory is correct," Bruce explained.

"Great!" Terry sighed. "So it's anyone's guess."

Bruce did not deem that comment worthy of an answer.

"So who do you think this stranger is?" Terry asked.

"I have no idea." Bruce shrugged.

"So what am I supposed to do then?" Terry inquired with an annoyed expression.

Bruce smirked. "Find out who this black stranger is."

"So, basically, I get to go out and look for a needle in a haystack tonight," Terry grumbled.

Bruce smiled for the first time in a very long time. "Have fun."

Terry stalked away. "I hate you."

Bruce looked over at Ace, who lifted his head and whined quietly. Bruce pet the dog's head and smirked to himself. Yes, sometimes life had its high points.

B.A.T.M.A.N.

Nightwing moved swiftly through the night like a shadowed wraith. No one noticed his passing in the streets below. He jumped and ran from roof top to roof top with practiced ease. He did not know exactly where he was going but continued on his way. Something in his subconscious knew where he was and where to go. He followed his instincts with complete faith that he would find what he wanted eventually.

He hunched down behind a sign as a car flew by overhead. He watched it go with a strange look. He still was not used to having to dodge traffic this far up. It was hard to believe all that he had seen and learned in the last few days. He still could not understand the familiar feel to this city. It felt like he had been here before, like he was coming back to an old friend. His mind wanted him to believe that it was Gotham. Yet, it seemed so different from his city in so many ways and not at all in others. The feel of the city was the same as Gotham at night, but during the day it was like a whole other place.

He got up and went on his way. Soon he found himself in the downtown area of the city in an old warehouse district. This place felt like home to him. He lived in an abandoned warehouse in Gotham that he called his loft. He had fixed it up the top two stories to become his headquarters from which to work out of. He found it odd that he had come to this place. He wandered along the top of the warehouses, letting his senses guide him. He felt like something was calling him here. He picked up his pace, jogging along the roof of one building to jump to another.

He skidded to a stop in mid-jog. He had just heard something out of place here, a sound that did not belong. A sensation of wrong pervaded the area. He stood, poised, for the sound to come again. He did not have to wait long. A muffled gun shot split the night air. It was close by. He moved to the edge of the roof and waited again, every part of him alert now. Another shot rang out, or at least what he thought were gun shots. The sounds were slightly different then the normal gun shot sounds. It did not matter. He was now able to pin point were the disruption was coming from. It was a warehouse two buildings down from where he stood.

He quickly made his way toward that warehouse and leapt as quietly as possible onto the roof. He did not want to alert whoever it was in there to his presence. He paused, listening for any other sounds from inside the warehouse. He began to pull out the line of a grappling hook then anchored it to the edge of the roof. He lowered himself over the edge, carefully, backing himself down the side of the building. He found a window about half way down. Perfect. He picked the lock and swung it open. It was to dark to see anything inside. He took his chances and dropped in.

He crouched by the window for a moment, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness. He had landed in an office. Not to bad. Another gun shot made him freeze in the middle of the room. It was far enough away from him to be of no concern at the moment. He opened the door to the office and peered out.

Nothing.

Silence.

He went out, shutting the door cautiously behind him. He found himself on a catwalk above the bottom floor of the warehouse. He walked to the railing of the catwalk and looked down. Below him were crates, boxes, and various other containers stacked neatly around the floor. Amongst all of this, in the center of the warehouse, were the people responsible for the disruption. A few unconscious security guards were scattered about on the ground. A large van was pulled up into the back of the warehouse, and was being loaded with crates. A small group of ten vibrantly dressed thieves were working frantically to fill the van. He leaned forward, getting a closer look at the gang. He felt his whole body stiffen in recognition.

Jokerz.

Rage swept through him as he stared down at them. To him the Jokerz were a stupid gang of amateur vandalists and thieves. He didn't think this was their style. Why would they be doing a big job like this? Had someone hired them to do their dirty work? His run in with them yesterday did not leave them in a very high position in his mind. Who would want a group of idiots for a job like this?

He felt hate and contempt swell in him for those petty thieves below him. It was a feeling much stronger than the situation should have warranted. He did not care or stop to analyze why he felt this way. All he wanted at the moment was to hurt them. A dark fog seemed to cloud his vision. Pain surged through him as he felt something trying to take over inside. His breathe seized up in his throat and his chest felt like it was on fire. His whole body shuddered violently with a dangerous energy that had not been there before. Everything else seemed to fade away around him.

Kill them! Kill them!

The voices began to scream in his mind. His hands curled into fists as he let the voices build the rage and malice inside him. He bared his teeth and leapt-

Everything after that became a blur shrouded in black fog. He could see the fear on the clowns' face as he bore down on them and beat them to hell. He could see the Jokerz coming at him and hear their shouts as they attacked him, but it was like he was watching from a distance. It was surreal the way it happened. It was as though something or someone had taken over his body while he remained the spectator. He saw everything in brief flashes of images, all of them violent and blurred with movement. He heard the gunshots, the shouts, and the screams but it was like listening to a badly tuned radio. He could feel the blows on his body as he fought but felt no pain. There was nothing.

Then suddenly it stopped.

He stood in the center of the warehouse, bodies of Jokerz scattered about on the ground like broken dolls. Everything was still and silent. He blinked a few times but nothing changed. Had he done all this? He walked over to a Joker and leaned over to check his pulse. A wave of relief washed over him as he felt the strong throb of a heart beat beneath his fingers. One by one he checked them all, praying silently that none had been killed. He was relieved to find that all of them were still alive.

He was just checking the last one when he heard a soft thump behind him. He whirled about to see the black costumed man from the two nights before standing with his back to him. Anger swept through him as glared at the black masked character's back. He kept showing up where ever Nightwing went. Was the guy following him? He didn't really care. He was tired of it. He felt the dark fog closing in on him once more. He reached down and picked up a gun that had been dropped sometime during the earlier fight. He strode purposely toward the black intruder, gripping the gun tightly. The voices in his head were growing louder once more, but he pushed them down. They would not help him now. The dark fog seemed to fade with the voices. He felt a sense of relief run through him as they did. He stopped just behind the intruder, cocked the gun, and aimed it at the back of the black intruder's head. It was time to get some answers. The costumed man paused mid-step-

B.A.T.M.A.N.

Batman froze at the sound of a gun being cocked right behind his head. He turned slowly around, back rigid and hands in the air. His jaw dropped and eyes widened as he saw who was holding a gun to his head. He was staring into a masked face that was all too familiar.

"Move and I won't hesitate to shoot you," his assailant spoke in a low voice.

His captor was none other than Nightwing. He knew it was the real Nightwing, but how it was even possible staggered his mind. There was no way the masked "stranger" could be anyone else. He had seen enough pictures of the long thought dead hero to know that face. He had stared at all the information of this guy for hours earlier that afternoon. He would have to be completely blind not to believe what was in front on his face. There was just one big difference between the real Nightwing and the pictures–the expression on his face. It was total devoid of emotion and hard as stone, there was no trace of humanity at all.

"You're dead," he managed to choke out in disbelief.

He glanced down at the gun. It was steady in the black gloved hand. The gun did not shake in the least like it did when so many others had threatened to kill him. The deadly calm on Nightwing's face proved he was not joking. He would kill Batman if he had to. This was a cold, well trained fighter taught by the best. His whole demeanor sent fear tingling down Batman's spin. Never had death felt this close that he could almost see it.

At his words, Nightwing's lip curled up into something that resembled a feral smile. "Obviously I'm not."

Batman lifted his hand slightly as if to dissuade the older hero. He saw Nightwing's finger pull the trigger a touch tighter. He stopped, knowing the masked man had only to pull back the trigger just a little more…He swallowed hard.

"You don't want to live?" Nightwing asked, casually, as though he were asking the time of day.

Batman glanced at the gun once more, which was aimed right at his mouth. One wrong move or word and he would be eating a bullet for dinner. He was at a loss of what he should do. He had never been caught in a situation quite like this before. He knew very little about Nightwing that could help, like what were his motives at pointing a gun at his head! As far as he knew Nightwing did not work like that but then he never knew this guy so how could he be certain? What was he supposed to do?

Nightwing continued talking, as if he didn't notice the fear in his captive's face. "I don't know who you are, but I think I'm entitled to a few answers. Don't you agree?"

Batman nodded slightly.

"Good, maybe if you keep acting like a slightly intelligent person I won't have to shoot you."

Batman felt another shiver of spin tingling fear as well as a stab of anger at the jab at his pride.

"Now, just who are you?" Nightwing asked.

He took a deep calming breath before answering. "You can call me Batman," he tried to keep some of his old confidence in his voice.

A genuine smile appeared on Nightwing's face, but it was a smile that held a sarcastic edge that Batman did not care for. "That's very amusing."

"I am," he growled, angrily.

"Batman would have never gotten himself trapped like this. He also would have had me on the ground bleeding by now," Nightwing told him. "You are not Batman. You're not experienced enough or old enough to be the Batman I know."

"So I'm a little new at this job. Sue me!" he shot back.

"I'd watch your mouth if I were you, smart ass," the white slits narrowed as Nightwing spoke.

Batman straightened his back, bringing himself to his full height, which made him the same height as his captor. He clenched his fists and squared his jaw. He would not let Nightwing intimidate him like this. He had faced worse things than this and lived, hadn't he?

Nightwing had been able to evaluate a few things about his captive during their short exchange. This was a young man, probably a few years his junior from the way he talked and acted. His courage earned him Nightwing's respect. Nightwing however would not let it show. The kid would take it as a sign that he was going to let him go. That was not the case just yet. He wanted his answers and if he let even a little emotion show through then the kid would walk all over him. The kid was too arrogant for his own good. Nightwing calmly snapped a shot off just past his masked captive's head.

Batman tensed in total surprise, taking an involuntary step back. Nightwing was not playing games with him. This was serious. Nightwing would not but up with his sarcastic mouth. He decided he'd better not test his assailant's patience any further. He would, for the moment, wait to make his move.

"Since you apparently think you're Batman, what happened to the previous one?" Nightwing asked out of curiosity's sake. Could Bruce be dead?

"He retired," he answered curtly.

Nightwing snorted rudely. "Somehow I find that hard to believe."

He bit his tongue to keep from saying anything he'd regret. Nightwing noted this with a slight expression of approval. The kid could be taught yet.

"What year is it?"

The question took Batman by surprise. "2035," he replied in confusion.

It was Nightwing's turn to look shocked. Batman shifted uneasily and Nightwing's finger tightened on the trigger once more. "Where are we?"

"In a bad warehouse district of downtown Gotham," he answered slowly, trying to figure out what was going on.

Nightwing looked shaken now. "Gotham…"

"McGinnis!" Bruce's voice came through in his cowl. "What's going on?"

Nightwing heard the voice and his expression darkened considerably. He leaned closer as Bruce repeated the message again when Batman didn't answer. Batman tensed, getting ready to jump. Nightwing caught hold of his throat and pressed his gun to Batman's head, effectively cutting off any ideas of escape. He leaned close to Batman's ear where he had heard the voice.

"Whoever that is, the kid here is currently facing the business end of a gun. Please shut up while I finish talking to him," Nightwing spoke into the radio link.

Nightwing took a step back and spun Batman around so that his back was to him once more. "Thank you for the information. I appreciate it."

He slammed the butt of his gun against the back of Batman's head and watched him crumple to the ground. He didn't feel in the least bit guilty about having done that. In fact, it had been quite satisfying, he thought with a nasty grin. He turned and walked away. In a moment he was gone, having disappeared back into the night like a shadow.


	5. Chapter 5

Batman groaned and pushed himself up onto his elbows. His head was pounding from the blow he had received to his head. His vision was slightly blurred and he felt dizzy. He sat back gingerly on his knees, trying to reorient himself.

"Terry?"

He grimaced as Bruce shouted in his ear. He pressed his index finger to his right ear, cutting back the volume on his radio link. "Please, Bruce, can you keep it down. I have a huge headache," he croaked out

He heard Bruce sigh in relief. "I was beginning to get worried."

"How long was I out?" he asked, checking himself over for any other injuries.

"About ten minutes."

He sighed and looked around him. All the Jokerz were still out cold. He tried not to think what would have happened if any of them had woken up while he had been unconscious.

"You mind telling me what happened?" Bruce asked.

"Can I tell you when I get back? I'm having enough trouble thinking straight as it is," he replied, staggering to his feet. "This was not how I wanted to spend my Saturday night."

Bruce grumbled something quietly, and then said. "Get out of there before something else bad happens to you."

For once he felt no qualms with following one of Bruce's orders.

B.A.T.M.A.N.

Back at the Batcave, Terry sat on the examining table telling Bruce what happened. Bruce listened intently while checking him over. Thanks to Bruce's painkillers, Terry no longer felt like his head was going to fall off.

"It was Nightwing," Terry confirmed. "There's no way it could be anyone else."

Bruce said flatly. "Superman told me he was dead. Robin confirmed it."

"I know what I saw. That was him. He didn't look any older than the last picture taken of him. It was insane," Terry argued.

"I never said I didn't believe you," Bruce remarked.

Terry rolled his eyes before gently massaging the back of his head. "And if you ask me, you trained him to well."

"He didn't learn all he knows from me," Bruce remarked.

Bruce walked away from Terry, apparently satisfied that the teen was not going to die anytime soon. Terry was quickly losing his patience. He hated being dismissed like this. He tapped his fingers irritably against the examining table and started to think out loud.

"If both of them believed he was dead, how in the world did he survive? What happened to him? Why has he not shown up until now? And why does he look like he hasn't aged a day?"

Bruce looked back at him with a blank expression.

"Not to mention why would he hold a friggin' gun to my head?" Terry almost shouted in exasperation.

"He doesn't know you. You were just another enemy at the time. You were caught in a bad situation at the wrong time. He was somewhat unorthodox in the manner in which he fought before he went missing," Bruce shrugged. "At least he didn't shoot you."

Terry shot him a dirty look. "Oh yeah, that makes me feel a whole lot better. That's the second time that guy has tried to kill me!" Terry paused, before asking, "Do you think he really would have killed me?"

"No, but I think he would have shot you. A wounded man can't follow him," Bruce sat down at the chair in front of his computer. "At least you were smart enough to do what he said and not provoke him."

"He's got a bad temper?" Terry smirked.

Bruce glanced back at him with an amused look on his face. "You seem to have forgotten who raised him."

"Forgive me," Terry shot back sarcastically.

Bruce ignored him. "Nightwing was right though. You need to learn to watch your mouth."

"I didn't think anyone would try to shoot at me for just being cynical."

Bruce shrugged slightly. "I tried to warn you when you took this job. You suffer the consequences for not paying attention to what I say."

"I'll remember to hang on you every word from now on," Terry snapped and crossed his arms over his chest.

Bruce looked up at him with a look that said he clearly wasn't amused. "Why don't you go home? I'll work on this further."

Terry shook his head. "Sure. Whatever."

B.A.T.M.A.N

Late that same night in an older, more rundown warehouse district of downtown Gotham, all was silent and tranquil. Nothing seemed to move. There were no people in this area so late at night. Most people would be waking up in only a few short hours anyways. A light breeze blew down between the buildings, stirring a few pieces of stray garbage. Something else shifted as well, but it was much bigger. A black figure detached itself from a long, dark shadow. It slunk noiselessly to the oldest building still standing.

It paused by the building door. A faint scrapping sound echoed in the alley as the figure swiftly picked the lock. A moment later, with a rusty groan of the door, the black figure disappeared inside the warehouse. It moved about like a phantom, only visible to those who looked closely. It moved slowly about the lower level of the warehouse, scrutinizing every inch of the place.

Everything was gone that had once been. Only a few forgotten things remained that were of no value. Empty, mostly broken, boxes and scrapes of things that were undefinable in the gloom of the night. Finding nothing of use, the phantom crept up the stairs to the second level. It paused at the top of the stairs and a gasp escaped its lips.

The whole top floor had been trashed. It had been torn through long ago by thieves for anything of value. A couch was tipped over in the middle of the floor. A table had been knocked over as well and two of the legs were missing. The two chairs that went with it were thrown to the side not far away. Apparently these few things were too big or cumbersome to bother with. Junk was scattered everywhere. Bits of old machinery, pieces of things that were no longer recognizable.

"My poor loft," the figure sighed softly.

The place was devastated. It would take sometime to get it even remotely clean again. The figure picked its way across the living room to pick up a lamp. To his surprise it was still in tact. He turned it on and was pleased to find it was still working—a small miracle. The dim yellow light pressed back the shadows, falling across the face of the "phantom."

Nightwing looked around the place with an expression of deep sadness. This was his home. What had happened here? He moved over to the wall on his right and pressed his palm against a picture hanging there. The picture looked like someone had been trying to pull it off the wall. Apparently the person trying to steal the picture got frustrated after it refused to come loose from the wall. Nightwing shook his head with wry smile. A section of the wall slid open in a shower of dust. The compartment the wall had been concealing was empty. He furrowed his brow in confusion. He reached for another switch inside the compartment. With a great groan and much effort, a portion of the floor swung up to reveal another hidden compartment. This one was just as bare as the last. His entire stash of supplies had been taken.

He slammed his fist angrily against the wall and sighed heavily in defeat. Who could have found all this? Not the petty thieves that had ransacked his house. They had done a poor, rushed job of robbing his place. Only three other people knew about how to access these hidden compartments—Bruce Wayne, Barbara Gordon, and Tim Drake. He had no idea where any of them were although he did know that Bruce was still alive. Only those three could have taken his gear. They would have only taken it if they thought he wasn't coming back. So "Batman" must have been telling the truth about the year and everything else. He didn't want to believe it, but now he knew that it could not pretend it wasn't true. To much had changed, and it made him ache inside.

He pushed these things from his mind. He had other things to deal with at the moment. He would figure out what was going on soon enough. He ignored the fact that he was actually afraid to find out what had happened. It didn't matter. He made his way down the hall to the back of his loft. He had to see how the rest of his home had faired.

The bathroom was untouched, but very dirty. There wasn't much you could steal from a bathroom. His bedroom was just as much a wreck as the living room and kitchen. Clothes, papers, pictures, and other assorted things were tossed about over the expanse of the large room. Whoever had been in here had been a huge rush and had not taken very much. That at least was a great relief to him.

He picked up one of the drawers of his night stand that had been flung across the room in a corner. He cleared a spot for it on the bed, which was broken and leaning precariously to one side. He wandered about gently picking up all his pictures and photo albums. He piled them carefully into the drawer, trying not to harm them anymore than they already were. These were all he had left of the memories of his childhood and life. He could not bear to lose them. He found his framed picture of his parents under a pile of clothes. He looked at it, feeling the old sorrow and grief well up inside him once more. The pain would never go away. His parents' death would haunt his mind as well as heart forever. He carefully wiped the dust off the broken glass and set it on the top of his night stand.

He found a ripped, yellowed newspaper article with a headline on it about Wayne Corps. There was a picture of Bruce below it. As he stared at it his hands began to shake fiercely. He felt rage surge through his veins. In his dark, sudden fury he impulsively shredded the article to pieces. He watched the torn bits drift lazily to the floor. He blinked in surprise and stared at his still shaking hands. What had just happened? He had never felt furious hatred that pure before especially towards Bruce. Yes, he and Bruce had argued and not seen eye to eye on many things, but he never hated Bruce. He could not explain what had come over him only a moment before. It scared him. It was like something dark had just taken over his thoughts with out his bidding. He remembered the voices in his head screaming at him to kill and maim. What was wrong with him? What was happening to him?

He did not want to think about that right now either. He shrugged it off and went back to cleaning. He picked up all his clothes, depositing them into his dresser. Thankfully, the dresser drawers had only been pulled open and cleared out instead of ripped out. After an exhausting hour of cleaning, he had his bedroom looking much cleaner. He quickly cleared the bed of all the mess, repaired it enough to be serviceable once more, and collapsed onto it. He was to tired to care about the tangled, dirty bed sheets. What did it matter? He was dirty anyways. He took a deep breath and blew it out, letting his body relax. He was asleep within a short while; the stresses of the last few days finally catching up with him. In his sleep, the worries and the troubles disappeared from his face. He seemed at peace as he slept–something he did not experience much while he was awake. Life had not been kind to him, nor did it appear that it would be anytime soon.


	6. Chapter 6

Nightwing shifted on his bed, trying to avoid the growing light of the sun streaming through his windows. He rolled onto his side, and opened his eyes slowly. Dust particles danced in the late morning sun light only reminding him just how much work he had left to do before this place was clean again. He groaned and covered his eyes; he did not want to start thinking about all that just yet. He was still tired, but now that he was awake and his brain already in gear there was no way he could go back to sleep.

He rolled onto his back and pushed his hair out of his face. He scrubbed his hands over his face, pausing when his fingers touched his mask. He had rarely slept with his mask on because when he slept he knew he was safe. There was usually no need for it. Yet circumstances were not of the usual nature. He had not felt safe or comfortable since coming to this new Gotham to even relax. He pulled off his mask and tossed it onto his night stand. Today he would have no need for Nightwing. He needed to be able to blend in with the crowd for what he planned to do today, which was more exploring of this new Gotham.

First he needed to work out a few things. With all that had been happening to him since his arrival in the new Gothm he had been given no time to think. His arm twinged sharply as he shifted into a more confortable position. The pain reminded of him the shocking way in which he had made it to this Gotham and who's hand had put him here. Scarecrow. With that name came the remembrance of the needle which he'd yanked out of himself. He knew by now that whatever Scarecrow had hit him with was not his ordinary mixture of fear toxins. In fact, it did even seem to be involving anything with fear so far. Whatever it was doing though was making him hear voices that almost caused him to kill several people twice now. What the hell was this drug doing to him?

He knew that he should honestly get into contact with Bruce, but he was hesitant. His pride had taken a blow when Bruce had betrayed him by allowing Barbara to become involved in their vigilante life style. It was not easy for him to forget about that. He also was not ready to admit that he couldn't deal withthis on his own. He was to stubborn to ask for help from his foster father yet. He would try to figure it outhis way first then he promised himself if he could not solve this problem he would find Bruce.

He sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. He leaned over and quickly dug around in a pile of clothes that had been flung into a corner for something to wear. He quickly changed out of his costume, tossing it into the closet. He pulled on a pair of black slacks, a black t-shirt, and a black jacket. He pulled back his hair into a ponytail and sighed. What he really wanted was a shower. Sadly, he had no soap or anything of that nature lying around. He needed to go shopping for supplies. This brought him to another problem—money.

He dropped onto his knees beside the bed–hoping that luck had held–before he began to search under his bed. His hand found the hidden catch and he triggered it. A square of the floor popped open; much like the one in the living room. He reached inside a wave of relief sweeping through him as his hand closed around his lock box. With a sigh of relief, he pulled it out and examined it. It was still in tact and showed no signs of having been messed with. He opened it quickly after a long moment of trying to remember his lock number(it had been sometime since he'd last had any need to get into it). His shoulders lost some of their tension when he saw that everything was still inside of it the way he had left it. He took out his wallet, and looked through it to make sure it still had his cash and credit cards. He kept his wallet stashed in the lock box while he was out being his alter ego. He didn't take chances.

He stood up, slipping his wallet into his inside jacket pocket. He had everything he needed now. His eyes swept one more time over the bedroom before he turned and left. He had things to do.

B.A.T.M.A.N.

He found a little shopping mart not to far from his Loft. On the way there he had taken in everything he couldwith a great deal of interest about the changed Gotham. The city was not as dark and gloomy like he knew it to be. New buildings were everywhere with a design that looked almost precarious to him as well as with more windows then he cared for. The cars were much more advanced as he had learned the first night after running (or rather falling) into one. He still hadn't gotten used to seeing them flying overhead. Everything just felt so strange and newer. It looked like the government was really making a conscious effort to improve Gotham. He wasn't sure he liked all the modifications though.

At the register, after picking up all the supplies he needed, he chatted cheerfully with the cashier. The cashier was a friendly, old man named Bill, who gladly answered all of his questions. He found that "Batman" had been telling the truth about the year, and heard some pretty interesting stories about him as well from Bill. It seemed this new "Batman" had made quite an impression since he appeared several months ago. Gotham seemed to have opened up its proverbial arms to embrace "Batman" once more. When Bill had finished ringing up all his items, Dick paid him in cash. Bill looked at him in pleasant surprise, then down at the cash in his hand.

"What?" Dick asked in confusion.

"Not many people pay in cash anymore," Bill answered.

Dick blinked and furrowed his brow. "What do they use?"

"Units. Like credit cards. They are the new form of money now," Bill replied. "Everyone uses them. I prefer cash myself."

"I guess I'm pretty far behind," Dick remarked with a frown.

Bill gave him an odd look. "Are you new to Gotham?"

"No, I just haven't been here in a long time," which was the truth in technical terms.

"Ahh, well, don't worry about it," Bill smiled, kindly. "You seem like a good guy, Dick. Here take this."

He handed Dick a newspaper. Dick took it with a grateful smile. "Thank you."

"No problem. It's on me," Bill replied.

Dick gathered up his bags and stuck the paper in the top of one. "Thanks again!" he said over his shoulder as he left.

"Come back anytime!" Bill called after him.

Back at the Loft, he dropped all of his things off, took a quick shower (after cleaning the bathroom), and then took care of his injured arm. It still hurt like hell but he wasn't about to let it slow him down. He'd lived with worse injuries. He still had a lot more exploring to do before his curiosity would be satisfied. An hour later he was back on the streets, wandering in no particular direction but letting his feet take him where they would.

B.A.T.M.A.N.

Maxine strolled down a beautiful little avenue in old historical Gotham. On either side of the street were cafes, shops, bakeries, and all manner of other small stores. It was a cheerful, comforting place to be away from the normally busy streets of downtown Gotham. She was wandering from shop to shop, buying treats to share with her friends the next day at school. After spending all the Sunday morning and early afternoon in the library with Terry, she was ready for a break. All of her school work was done and there was nothing else she needed to do. So she had come down here to spend the rest of her afternoon shopping. This avenue always made her feel at ease and helped her forget the stresses of her normal life.

So it was a bit of a shock when a grimy hand shot out and grabbed her by the arm.

"Hold still, pretty lady," a raspy voice commanded from the alley way between two shops. She gasped in surprise and tried to scramble backward. "I just want to borrow a little money."

"Sorry, I don't give money to creeps who hide in alleys," she snapped, trying to wrench herself free of his grasp.

"Very cute. Now hand over the cash!" the mugger growled.

"How about not?" a new male voice came from behind Max.

Max tried to twist around to see who had come to her rescue but the hand on her arm kept her firmly in place.

"I'd get out of here, dreg, if I were you," her captor hissed to the guy behind her.

She heard the guy behind her snort in disgust. Obviously her rescuer was not impressed. A strong hand clamped down on the wrist of the hand that held her. Her rescuer twisted the would-be mugger's hand cruelly. With a pained cry the hand holding her let go. She scrambled away and spun around to see a man in black yank the mugger's wrist further. She thought she heard a soft snap before the man let go. The mugger dropped to the ground, whimpering and cradling his wrist against his body.

"Word of advice, dreg, work on your act before you try to rob anyone again," the man said in a disdainful tone.

Max involuntarily stepped back as the man turned to face her. Who wouldn't after seeing that display? She drew in a sharp breath as a pair of dark, piercing eyes settled on her own. They were so dark that she couldn't even see the pupils of his eyes. They were like black bottomless pools. She forced her eyes away from his to take in the rest of him. He was what most girls dreamed of– tall dark, and handsome. Not to mention his well built frame hinted at the muscles his shirt was hiding. His raven black hair was shoulder length and pulled back into a ponytail. His demeanor held a confidence that most guys wished they had. He seemed to radiate a rather dark charm with an edgy side, making him that much more attractive. What girl could resist a man with a little bit of a dangerous edge to him?

"You ok?" he asked, expression softening to one of concern.

She nodded. "Yes, I'm fine."

"Well, then this is where we go our separate ways," he said and turned to leave.

"Wait!" she exclaimed, catching hold of his arm and a little amazed at her own boldness.

He turned back to face her. "Yes?"

She stared up at him for a half a second, trying to think of something to say and wondering why this guy looked so familiar. "I didn't get to thank you for what you did back there…" he started to shake his head as she spoke.

"It was nothing," he tried to let it go.

She raised her eyebrow and crossed her arms over her chest. "That's what they all say."

"Yeah, I guess they do," he grinned, and she felt her heart skip a beat. Man, this guy was gorgeous.

"Plus," she went on before her bold streak wore off. "I didn't get your name."

He paused for a second as though considering what to tell her, and then said in a true James Bond fashion, that brought a smile to her face. "Grayson. Richard Grayson."

She laughed and put her hand out. "I'm Maxine Gibson."

He took her hand and shook it firmly. "You know that sad excuse for a mugger was right…you are pretty."

"Ahhh...," she was at a loss for words and felt a blush rising to her cheeks.

He laughed gently at her reaction, which made her blush harder.

"You want to get some coffee or something?" she asked, impulsively.

"I'd love to take you up on that offer but I really can't. I'm in the middle of a…project," he replied, regretfully.

She caught the slight hesitation before he said 'project' and frowned in confusion. She wondered what kinda of project would take up this man's attention. She studied him carefully and could not shake this feeling that this man looked extremely familiar. His name also struck a cord in her mind, but she could not place it. Her brain seemed to have stopped functioning ever since she had started to talk to him. His smile kept making her brain go all fuzzy.

"Oh well. It was worth a shot," she smiled, trying to hide her disappointment.

He looked slightly guilty. "How about I take a reign check on that offer?"

"Alright," she said with a grin.

"Tuesday," he told her, walking away. "Same time, same place."

She watched him leave with a smile, disappointed that she couldn't entice him to stay but happy that she would get to see him again soon. She turned and made her way to the closest café. She needed some really strong coffee after that whole encounter. She sat down at a table in the corner and ordered her favorite espresso drink. She wondering about the mysterious guy she had just met, while she waited for her coffee. The nagging sensation that she really should know who that guy was would not go away. The connection seemed right at the edge of comprehension.

"Grayson…," she said the name aloud, mulling over where she had heard it before.

Her brain seemed to be kicking back into gear now that he had left her side. She chewed on her lower lip as she thought. Then suddenly it hit her.

"Oh my God!" she sat up straight in her seat.

How could she have been so dense? Richard Grayson was Dick Grayson! The boy Bruce had adopted from the circus. The boy who had been Robin, the Boy Wonder! The man that became Nightwing! Nightwing! The very person she and Terry had just spent hours researching about for that bloody project!

"But how…?" she wondered aloud.

According to all the information dug up on Nightwing, he had disappeared years ago. He was probably even dead or was supposed to be. Yet, that would not explain why his alter ego had showed up on this avenue and saved her butt. This was way to confusing. She wondered if she was just being silly. Maybe it was just some incredible look alike with the same name. It could happen, right? She rolled her eyes. Yeah, what were the odds of that happening? One in a billion? No way! That had to have been the real Dick Grayson.

For a second, she thought about going to see if she could find him again. No, he would be long gone by now. She slumped back into her seat, and sighed. She felt like an absolutely idoit. Something she was not used to feeling very often. She was definitely going to have to tell Terry about this one. Maybe he would know what the heck was going on. He had said that some guy was running around Gotham pretending to be Nightwing. There had to be some explanation for all of this, because there was no way Dick Grayson could have just raised from the dead unless he was the next Jesus Christ!


	7. Chapter 7

Commissioner Barbara Gordon walked into the police station that morning in a particularly good mood. The criminal activity in Gotham was at an all time low since only God knew when. There had been no new "super villains" to create yet more havoc and fear for over a month. That had to be an all time record. The police department was finally getting a much needed chance to relax. The stress and tension in the department had also dropped considerably making everyone's job that much easier. It was a nice change.

Barbara strolled through the main office area but paused by the desk closest to her private office. Her top in investigator and dear friend, Jack Garrison, and her husband, Sam Young, were engrossed in something they were watching on the computer monitor. They were fast forwarding and rewinding what looked like a surveillance video. This was not so unusual, but what bothered her was the expressions of troubled bafflement.

Sam liked to hang around the police station a little more than most DAs. She had a feeling it was because he wanted to keep an eye on her. Or maybe it was his way of protecting her. Whatever the case, she didn't mind to much. What she did want to know was what exactly had those two looking so confused.

"What's going on?" she asked them both.

Jack and Sam looked up in surprise, finally noticing that she was standing there.

"We've been having some strange reports lately," Jack said, before turning back to the monitor and rewinding the video yet again.

"Oh? What kind of reports?"

Sam glanced over at Jack, but the younger man failed to notice or intentionally ignored him. Jack kept his hazel eyes glued to the screen, propping his elbow up on the desk and resting his chin in his hand. Sam had come to take this as Jack's "you're on your own, pal" response. He turned back to Barbara and explained to her. "There are reports of another masked character running around Gotham creating trouble."

"Not another one," Barbara groaned. So much for hoping things would remain quiet for a little longer. She sighed in resignation. "Well, let's hear it."

Jack nodded and turned to face her, saving Sam from having to tell her. Jack was not the one that would have to put up with her when he went home. "The other night a small group of Jokerz broke into a bakery and robbed it."

"Yes, I heard about that," Barbara said, impatiently. "What has that got to do with our "masked character"?"

"Well, we lost them for a while. We found them several blocks from the heist thanks to Batman-," Barbara frowned and Jack plunged on, "Funny thing was that all the Jokerz were all knocked out before Batman got there. Batman told us that one of the Jokerz had described the guy that had attacked them as a man all in black with a big blue bird on his chest. We arrested the Jokerz and interrogated each of them separately. All of them confirmed that description Batman was given. One also told us he had black hair and was tall."

Barbara had gone very still as her hands gripped the edge of the desk. Sam gave her a concerned look but she shook her head wearyingly. She gestured for Jack to keep going.

"Well, Saturday night there was a break in down at a warehouse in the old district involving more Jokerz. This "Black" character shows up again, takes them all out like a mad man, and then he holds a gun to Batman's head before knocking him out. This guy disappears long before the police even get there. We got the whole thing on surveillance cameras."

"We're reviewing the disc now," Sam put in.

Barbara came around the desk to watch it too. Jack switched the video on and sat back in his chair. They all watched in silence as the black stranger brought down all the Jokerz with frightening ease. Barbara felt a lump forming in her throat. She had known someone long ago who could fight like that, but it couldn't be him. He was gone. They watched Batman arrive on screen and stop as the black stranger walked up behind him with a gun to his head. The camera angle changed abruptly. Barbara leaned forward and froze the video. The image stopped on a frontal view of the stranger. She zoomed in on him, bringing his image to full size. The image was fuzzy at best but she could make out part of the face and a little of the blue bird on his costume. That was all she needed to confirm her suspicions.

"Oh my God…," she whispered, feeling as though someone had dropped aྭhundred pound weight on her chest. "It can't be."

"Barbara?" Sam jumped up, grabbing her arm as she wavered on her feet. "You know who this is?"

Barbara nodded slowly, forcing herself to regain her composure. "He's called Nightwing…," she broke off, muttering to herself, "but it can't be possible. Maybe someone's impersonating him."

"Why?" Jack asked in confusion, but Sam seemed to recognize the name.

Barbara looked up, breaking from her line of thought. "What?"

"Why isn't it possible?" Jack reiterated.

"He's supposed to be dead. No one's seen or heard anything about him in thirty years," Barbara said in a deadened tone.

Jack whistled in surprise, and then looked back at the picture on screen. "He looks pretty sprightly for having been dead three decades."

Barbara turned and walked toward her office with a blank expression on her face. Sam shot Jack a dirty look and called after her, worriedly. "Barbara? Are you alright?"

The two men watched her retreating back until her office door slammed shut. They both exchanged confused look, wondering what the hell had just happened.

"Jack, look up everything you can find on this Nightwing character. I want to find out who this guy is and get to the bottom of this," Sam ordered.

"Yes, sir."

B.A.T.M.A.N.

"Terry!" Max called.

Terry turned to see Max racing down the school hall toward him, shoving other students out of her way to join him at his locker. Terry wasn't really amused. It was another lousy Monday morning and he was not in a very good mood. Once again he had been forced to stay up until almost the butt crack of dawn to do his homework after staying out late patrolling Gotham for a guy who was supposed to be dead. He had gotten less than two hours of sleep, and almost been late for school because his alarm had not gone off. By the time he had fallen asleep, he began to have more nightmares of "Nightwing" holding a gun to his head again. So it was safe to say that what little sleep he had gotten had not been very restful. Oh, he hated Mondays with an unholy passion!

"Terry! Hello?"Max snapped her fingers in front of his eyes.

He blinked and looked over at her as he pulled his books out of his locker. "Huh?"

"You'll never believe this," she gasped, trying to get her breath back.

"What did you do know?" he asked with a small smile.

Max shot him a dirty look before leaning in close to him and lowering her voice. "You'll never believe who saved my butt yesterday!"

"Who?"

That was all she needed to her prompt to take off on a tangent. She took a deep breath and began to tell her story in an excited whisper. He was having a hard time following because she was so wound up while telling him. He seemed to pick up the jest of it. She had been on some avenue and had almost been mugged.

"Max…not another-," he tried to break in.

"Shut up and listen. So this guy actually comes to my rescue and actually breaks the mugger's wrist before leaving him alone. He comes over after helping me to ask me if I am ok, and I'm like yeah I'm fine. Well I knew he looked really familiar but I just couldn't place him at the time. He told me his name and was long gone before I figured out who he was…," she paused for a breath. She was not usually this bad at babbling, in fact she never got this bad, but she was so excited.

"Is this going anywhere?" Terry look irritated.

She waved her hand, dismissing whatever he had said. "Take a wild guess who my rescuer was!"

He rolled his eyes and shrugged. "I don't know."

"Dick Grayson!" she whispered and spread her hands with a flourish.

Terry's mouth fell open in shock. "What? This was yesterday?"

"Yeah."

Terry shook his head. "Well, that clenches it. Bruce was not lying or making any of it up."

"What are you talking about?" Max looked confused.

"This guy has been seen four times, three of those times as Nightwing and once as his alter ego. That proves it can't be an imposter and that Bruce's blood analysis was correct. Dick Grayson is alive," Terry told her, quietly. "It proves that Nightwing was really thrown forward in time, which explains why he was missing for so many years and why he hasn't aged a day."

"Oh," her mouth was open in surprise.

Neither said anything for a long moment.

"I'm supposed to meet him again on Wednesday," Max suddenly blurted.

"WHAT?" Terry almost fell over backward in complete shock.

Students stopped talking or moving down the hallway, to turn and stare at him as if he was brain damaged. He swallowed then smiled meekly. He grabbed Max's shoulder and propelled her down the hall, around the corner. He let go of her when he thought it was safe for them to talk again.

"What are you talking about?" Terry asked in a furious voice.

She looked sheepish. "I kinda asked him out to coffee yesterday but he couldn't just then. So he said he would meet me on Wednesday to have coffee with me. I said yes before I remembered who he was."

"Oh God, Max! This is not good. That guy is psycho!" Terry ran his fingers through his hair in frustration.

She shrugged. "He was really nice to me."

"Max! He's threatened to kill me twice and another skinny Jokerz gang guy twice! He broke your mugger's wrist!" Terry exclaimed.

Max did not look upset. "I know all that, but maybe this is the perfect opportunity. I can talk to him and find out what really happened."

Terry didn't look convinced.

"Look, Terry, if you feel its necessary to follow me or do whatever while I am with him that's fine but give me this chance. Let me try to talk to him. Please?" she gave him a pleading look.

"Fine," Terry sighed. He couldn't say 'no' to that look. "But you better promise to be careful."

"You know I will, Ter."

Terry nodded. Why did Max always have to get herself involved like this? He did not like this idea at all. He didn't even want to think about all the things that could go wrong or what might happen to Max. He shook his head, as an odd thought pushed through the rest. Max never asked him out to coffee like that. He felt surprised by this thought. Was he jealous? Was that why he was being like this? No, he told himself. He was just worried for her.

The bell rang in the halls and all previous thoughts were quickly pushed aside as he rushed to make it to his first class on time.

B.A.T.M.A.N.

The first chance Terry got he found a phone and called Bruce. He needed to know what Max had seen. As far as Bruce was concerned the Nightwing Terry had run into the other night had been a fake. Terry didn't know how because he had seen the guy face to face. He'd stared down the barrel of Nightwing's gun. He didn't think any fake could look, talk, and fight exactly like a replica. He believed that the Nightwing he had seen was the real deal. Now Max had proved it beyond any doubt.

"Wayne speaking," Bruce said gruffly when he picked up the phone.

"Bruce, it's me," Terry answered quickly. He only had a few minutes between classes to exlain.

Bruce sighed. "I know."

"Yeah, great. Listen, Max told me something interesting today," Terry said hurriedly. He told the story Max had told him in a shorter, less babble filled version. The whole time Bruce didn't speak a word. "So you get it, right? This proves Nightwing's really back. We have all the evidence sitting right in front of us."

"It looks like you're right. Good job, Terry," Bruce praised him gruffly.

Terry pulled the phone away from his ear before staring at it in amazement. Bruce had to be feeling sick to say something like that. "Uhhh..thanks."

"Thank you for telling me this." Bruce continued. "Now I think there's someone else that would like to hear this information."

The phone went dead before Terry could say another word. He shook his head before sighing in irritation. Well, at least he had gotten a thank you out of the whole deal. That was a new one too. This whole thing had to really be bothering the old man to make him say something nice to his younger partner twice in one phone call.

"Your welcome," he said to the silenced phone.

The next bell for class rang, startling him back to the present. He hung up the phone quickly before racing down the hall frantically to get to his next class on time. His next teacher was not very forgiving him late students.

B.A.T.M.A.N.

Barbara collapsed into the chair behind her desk. She dropped her head into her hands, forcing herself to take a deep, somewhat shaky breath. She felt the vague burn of tears welling up in her eyes but refused to let them fall. She turned her head slightly to look at the pictures on her desk. She ignored the ones of her and Sam, her father, and the few others that she had. Her gaze settled upon the picture of a much younger her with a grinning Dick Grayson at her side. It had been taken on the day of his twenty-fourth birthday, only a few weeks before he disappeared. He looked so happy for once in that picture with his arms around her. They had been a party for another one of Bruce's big events. She remembered Tim Drake sneaking up on them while they had been dancing and then yelling at them to smile before flashing the camera in their face. It had turned out to be one of the best pictures she had of Dick.

"It can't be you," she whispered, picking up the picture frame.

The picture shook in her hands and a tear fell onto the glass. She put the picture back down quickly, wiping the tears from her eyes. She was supposed to be the strong one. She was the one holding the police department together. She was their rock, the unmovable and unchangeable Barbara Gordon. Still she could not crush down the feelings that were overwhelming her now. There had always been that place in her heart for Dick Grayson. He had been her friend for more years than she could remember. They had gone to high school and college together; they had practically grown up together. They had taken on the villains of Gotham side by side. They had grown to be such close friends, but there had always been that hope that they could be more than that. She had never told him how much she cared about him, how much she loved him. She never got the chance. He disappeared so suddenly and was never seen again afterward. He was presumed dead. Maybe it would not have been so bad if she had known what had happened to him, but there was nothing.

She had buried her feelings away when he vanished. She didn't want anyone to know how she felt, but she hadn't realized how transparent she had been. Bruce, Tim, Alfred, and her father had known all along how she felt. Then Sam had found out of course. She could not marry Sam without telling him that she could never love him the way he deserved it, yet he loved her all the same for it. She had hoped in time that her feelings would fade or go away. They never did. Even after years of being married to Sam and having the career she had always wanted she couldn't help but wonder. What would it have been like with Dick? Would things have been different? She felt like she was betraying Sam by thinking this way, but she couldn't help it. She would always wonder what it could have been like. She loved Sam but her love for Dick had been left unsatisfied. She would never know what life could have been like with Dick.

She rubbed her eyes with heels of her hands. She took another deep breath, bringing herself back under control. She picked up the telephone and dialed in a number she had known by heart for years. Maybe she could find some real information about what was going. The phone rang twice before it was picked up.

"Hello Bruce," she greeted.

"Barbara," answered Bruce in a clipped tone.

There was an awkward silence between them. The two of them had a slight falling out a several years ago when Barbara had been dating him. She never really knew why she had dated Bruce, one of those rash acts of the youthful. She had left him after realizing he would never be able to let go of his obsession for revenge and protecting Gotham. It was like a disease that could be cured but the treatment was refused. Barbara couldn't stay with a man who could not let go of such things.

"I've just received some unexpected information," Barbara finally spoke.

Bruce said nothing. He would not give anything away unless it was in his interest to do so.

"Information regarding Nightwing," her voice was low and angry, "who if I am not mistaken is supposed to be dead?"

"You were not mistaken," Bruce replied quietly. "He was supposed to be dead."

"What are you saying, Bruce?" Barbara practically growled.

There was a pause.

"That he's alive," Bruce answered simply.

She slammed her hand down on the desk. "This is a sick joke! I don't find it amusing!"

Bruce once again remained silent.

"The surveillance cameras in a warehouse Saturday night videoed a "black stranger" who by all appearances looks like Nightwing," she sighed and massaged her temples. When she spoke again the anger had faded from her voice and was now tinged with a hint of desperation. "It can't be him!"

"Why not? Face the facts, Gordon. He's alive and he's dangerous," snapped Bruce, his tone harsh.

She shook her head even though she knew that he could not see her. "It can't be."

"Barbara," Bruce's voice had lost its callous edge and for a moment he sounded like a normal person. "I'm sorry about all this but you can't deny the facts. He's here."

"He wouldn't have attacked all those Jokerz like that…," she trying to find another explanation anyway she could think of.

Bruce sighed. "I think there is something very wrong with him. He has tried to kill Terry twice and several others besides. I think you should come see me. I have something I'd like to show you."

She took a shuttering breath. "Fine. I'll be there after work."

Bruce hung up abruptly, leaving her alone with her thoughts. She set down the phone and stared at her picture of Dick. She could not hold back the tide of emotions welling inside her any longer. She covered her face with her hands and began to sob.


	8. Chapter 8

"So where do you think Nightwing is hiding?" Max asked over her plate of food in the cafeteria later that afternoon.

Terry shrugged and took a bite of his sandwich. Max had her faithful laptop sitting on the table beside her. She rarely went anywhere with out it. She was tapping her fingers impatiently on its smooth black top waiting for his answer as he swallowed.

"Well, obviously, he must be hiding somewhere close to that avenue you met him on," Terry remarked, sarcastically.

She rolled her eyes. "I could have told you that, Terry, you moron."

"Besides what does it matter anyways?" Terry asked.

"I thought it might help," she replied giving him a "duh" look. "I thought even you could figure that out."

"Bite me," Terry shot back.

"I think you'd like that to much, McGinnis," a male voice butted in on their conversation.

Both looked up to see Nelson Nash, an obnoxious jock who hated Terry. Nelson had not gotten over being beat up by Terry only a few short months ago. It had hurt and taken his ego down several notches in the eyes of his friends not to mention the rest of the school as well. He tried anyway possible to give Terry a hard time with out getting in trouble. So that was why Nelson stood there looking smugly down at them with his arms crossed over his chest. He apparently thought what he just said was the funniest thing in the world. Terry gave him a bored look.

"What do you want, Nelson?" Max snapped, nastily.

Nelson smirked. "Well, isn't that cute. Little Max is sticking up for her boyfriend Terry."

"Nelson, if you didn't notice, I already have a girlfriend," Terry pointed over at Dana, who was currently sitting with her friend Chelsea and her other best friends probably gossiping about boys and clothes.

Nelson did not look convinced. "Then why isn't she over here with you. I heard rumor that the two of you were going to break up."

Max glanced over sharply at Terry with a look he couldn't quite read.

"Not anytime soon that I know of," Terry replied, glancing uneasily at Max. She looked away and stared down at her plate.

Nelson narrowed his eyes and shrugged, still skeptical of the whole thing. "Whatever you say, dreg." He turned and strode away. He glanced back and called over his shoulder. "When you do decide to break up with Dana let me know!"

"God, that guy is a total jerk," Max glared after him, avoiding Terry's gaze. When she did finally look up at him, she was all business once more. Whatever he had seen in her eyes only seconds before was buried away. "Do you know where Dick's room was in Wayne Manor?"

Terry snorted. "No, I don't really get a chance to explore much while I'm there. Besides which I don't feel like tempting fate."

"Oh come on. Couldn't it be possible to talk Bruce into letting you poke around in Dick's stuff?"

Terry cocked one eyebrow at her. "I'm not that desperate to know everything about him."

Max gave him an exasperated look.

"If you're interested you ask Bruce," Terry said.

"Oh yeah, so you can laugh and say I told you so to my corpse? I think not," Max retorted.

"I guess you're not that desperate either, huh?" Terry grinned.

Max made a face at him before turning back to her food.

"Why don't you just look up the last few places he used to live before he vanished?" Terry wondered aloud.

"I was planning to," she replied angrily.

He put up his hands in a surrendering gesture. She rolled her eyes but calmed down.

"I'd have to use the school's computers. I can't excess the files we need from my laptop," she explained.

Terry shrugged. "Fine. Let's go then."

B.A.T.M.A.N.

A few minutes later they were seated in front of a school computer. Max was staring intently at the screen as she searched for any information she could find about Dick Grayson's last known residence. Terry sat a respectful distance away from Max, so as not to get in her way. She reminded him of Bruce a little bit when she was researching information–prickly and easily irritated. He only had to wait patiently a few minutes before she found something.

"Ah ha!" she crowed. "Found a few leads!"

"So?" he prompted her, eagerly.

She scanned down the page with interest, ignoring his tone of voice.

"I've got a list from his personal records of the last few places he lived at from two years before he disappeared," She turned the screen so Terry could see it. The list was pretty long. Terry looked it over and his jaw dropped in stunned fascination.

"Japan , England , France , Australia …," he read just a few of the places down the list. "Jeez, this guy moved more than my Dad did for business trips."

Max tapped the screen at the very bottom of the list. "The last two places of residence were right here in Gotham. One was an apartment in a really nice part of the city. The other is an old building in a rundown warehouse district."

"That's the same district where Nightwing took the Jokerz out and put a gun to my head," Terry told her in surprise.

Max looked over at him. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah, how could I forget that?" Terry replied. "Can you find a map of that district?"

There was a moment of silence as Max searched. A second later an in-depth map of that district appeared on screen. Terry leaned forward and studied the map closely. "There is the warehouse I found Nightwing," he pointed the building on the map.

Max found the building that had been listed under Dick's residance. "It's only a few blocks away. A coincidence, maybe?"

Terry glanced over at her and shrugged. "Well, it's a start."

"So I'm assuming you're gonna want to go check these last two places out," she propped her elbow up on the desk and rested her chin on her fist.

"Yeah."

Max lifted her eyebrows and gave him a look.

"What?" Terry stared dumbly at her.

Max rolled her eyes. "When are you going?"

"I thought I'd go while you were out with Dick on Wednesday," he said in a disdainful tone.

"What happened to wanting to keep an eye on me," she quirked one eyebrow at him challengingly.

He muttered something under his breath, knowing he had lost that little argument. "I guess I will go Thursday."

"Good. I'm coming with you," she smiled sweetly.

Terry sighed. "Fine."

They both looked up in horror as the bell rang. They both scrambled to their feet and grabbed their backpacks, racing for the door.

"See yah later, Terry!" Max shouted as she ran down the hall.

He waved good bye before they parted ways. "Just for once I wish I could win an argument with her," he grumbled under his breath.

B.A.T.M.A.N.

Sam managed to get back over to the police station late in the afternoon after taking care of the cases and other various business being the D.A. covered. He found his friend, Jack, sitting behind his desk tapping furiously away at his keyboard as he stared intently at his computer screen. He smiled a little at Jack's intensity. Whenever there was a new case Jack was assigned to he always threw himself into it mind, body, and spirit. Catching criminals was Jack's purpose in life.

"So what did you find on this Nightwing guy, Jack?" Sam inquired, leaning on the edge of his friend's desk.

Jack's eyes didn't leave the computer screen as he handed Sam print outs of information. "Not a whole lot. Most of it is what we already know. I'm still digging through the database to find anything else but there's not much to be found out about a vigilante."

Sam scanned over the print outs. "Old reports estimated Nightwing to be in his mid to late twenties, between 5'10 and 6'2 in height, black hair, eye color unknown. He appeared in Gotham about a year after the second Robin. Is rumored to have been the original Robin. Remained in Gotham for little over a year before suddenly disappearing in 2004. He was last seen in Metropolis possibly hunting the Scarecrow. This doesn't tell me much," Sam looked over at Jack in frustration.

"Sorry, Sam. I found all I could but without his real identity...," Sam trailed off.

Sam sighed heavily. "It's alright. Thanks a lot, Jack."

"No problem."

The facts were enough to get him thinking hard. Why would Barbara know Nightwing? And why would she be so upset that someone was impersonating the vigilante? Small details began to fit into place as he tried to remember everything Barbara had ever told him that might give him a hint.

Barbara's father, the previous commissioner Gordon, had died in a shoot out the same year Nightwing disappeared. From the looks of it only months after the vigilante's sudden vanishing act. He remembered the year specifically because Barbara told him how completely lost and depressed she had been during that time even going as far as to contemplate suicide. She joined the police only a year after her father's death. That was how he'd met her. She had been a rookie cop and him a rookie lawyer; both of them with big ambitions. He'd chased after her for months because she said she didn't want to be in a relationship. She made some excuse about having lost her boyfriend around the same time as her father. She never said how that boyfriend died or where exactly either. She only gave him a name. Dick Grayson.

Everyone knew who Dick Grayson was in Gotham City. He was the adopted son of Bruce Wayne. He was smart, handsome, and charming not to mention loaded with money from his 'father.' He was the most wanted bachelor next to Bruce Wayne. When Barbara mentioned his death, Sam had found it rather strange. That kinda of thing would have been all over the news especially in Gotham.

He remembered though that a few weeks after she'd told him this that Dick Grayson's mysterious death suddenly appeared in the news. The young man had somehow died during a visit in Japan. There had been vague mention about an accident but no real details. Sam had found that to be completely inconsistent with everything he had been told. What bothered him most was that Barbara seemed to have known about the death months before it was ever mentioned.

Sam stared at the year of Nightwing's disappearance. He could almost hear alarm bells going off as he compared the supposed dates of deaths between the vigilante and the millionaire boy. The times were to close together if he figured it properly on the information from Barbara and what he held in his hand. Could they be the same person?

His eyes widened at the possibility. The idea was staggering but it could be true. It would explain why Barbara had reacted so badly to the sudden reappearance of Nightwing. Because of Dick Grayson really was Nightwing then that would mean the man she had once loved or at least an impersonation of him was back to haunt her. The idea seemed almost unbelievable.

He had no way to prove any of it. All he had was a few small facts to link the two men together. It was only a possibility at best, and Sam being the lawyer that he was, knew that was not strong enough to make a clear connection. There could be an entirely different story between his wife and this vigilante. There were more questions now than answers. The facts only seemed to add to the confusion.

He looked up when the door to Barbara's office opened. She came out, walking with a determined purpose, as she slipped on her trench coat. She saw him at Jack's desk and smiled, but it didn't touch her eyes. Her eyes gave away the anxiety she was trying to hide from him. He could tell by her red rimmed eyes that she had been crying recently.

"Barbara?" he stepped towards her. "Are you ok?"

She waved him off impatiently. "I'm fine. I've got somewhere I need to go though. I'll be home in time for dinner. Wait for me," she reassured him.

"Always," he smiled faintly.

She gave him a small smile back before hurrying away.

Why couldn't she just tell him what was going on? Why was she being so damn secretive, he wondered. Whatever was going on was tearing her to pieces and she wouldn't talk to him about it. He hated how helpless he felt about it. She could trust him. She knew that. He was determined to figure out what was going on whatever it took, because whatever upset his wife was his business.

B.A.T.M.A.N

Barbara pulled her car up in front Wayne Manor and stared up at the huge mansion. No matter how many times she came here the mansion was always just as impressive as the first time she had seen it so long ago. Yes, the mansion had fallen into a state of disrepair but it could all be easily fixed if Bruce had a mind to pay for it. She knew though that Bruce did not have the heart to do so. It had always been Alfred's (the old butler and friend to Bruce) job to take care of the Manor. The elderly butler had been dead now for many years just like her father. There was no one to take care of the old mansion now, besides Bruce seemed to prefer it this way. It matched his mood better–dark and gloomy.

She got out of her car and walked slowly up to the front door. A feeling of nostalgia swept over her as she stood before the grand front doors. How many times had she come here in her youth to work down in the Batcave with Bruce and the others? They had some good times together. Yes, there had been danger, but adventure and camaraderie as well. It seemed so long ago. She felt the years weighing down on her suddenly. She pushed the feeling away with impatience as she reached for the door. This was no time to reminisce.

The door swung easily open when she turned the knob. Bruce had been expecting her. He rarely ever left the door unlocked. She strolled in as though she owned the place, knowing how much that bothered Bruce. She went right through the mansion to the large library that also served as Bruce's living room. She walked over to the Grandfather clock that hid the entrance to the Batcave. She opened the glass door, but paused to look at the painting over the mantel across from her. It was the portrait of Bruce's parents. They seemed to be watching her. She felt a chill race down her spin. She quickly opened the secret passage way and hurried down the stairs. She had to get away from those watchful eyes.

She descended the last few steps into the cave and came to a brief halt. Ace the dog lifted his head up from where it had been resting on his paws. The dog was of course lying by Bruce's feet. He was rarely found anywhere else. No one could ask for a better body guard. The black bathhound gave a quiet growl before lowering its head. Bruce was seated in front of his massive computer as usual. He did not even look up when Ace growled.

"Hello Barbara," he greeted her quietly, his voice so low she had to strain to hear it.

"Bruce?" she answered curtly. "What is it I'm here for?"

Bruce turned around in his chair and replied in his annoyingly calm tone. "So that I can give you all the evidence of Nightwing's return."

"He has to be dead, Bruce. He's been gone to long," Barbara snapped.

Bruce simply ignored that she had said anything. She sighed in frustration, walking over to where he was seated. Ace stood up and eyed her warily. She gave the dog an evil look and it backed down. Even the dog was smart enough not to mess with her when she was in a bad mood. She placed one hand on the computer console, leaned causally forward to stare at the computer screen.

"So what is this evidence?" she grumbled.

Bruce pressed a few keys and a picture of a blood sample appeared. He zoomed in closer so that they could easily see all the red and white blood cells. He then called up the information of the DNA scan.

"This is blood taken from the location of our "black stranger's" first appearance. I had it analyzed and it matches perfectly to Dick's DNA," he told her, pointing to the information. He looked over at her intensely. "My computer is never wrong."

She frowned, deeply. "It could have been planted there."

"No, it came directly from the subject's body. He was badly wounded when Terry found him."

She chewed irritably on her bottom lip, as she stood there thinking. She could find no way to deny the evidence of the blood sample. DNA never lies. Bruce leaned over and picked up a black object from the console. He flipped it open and it snapped out into the all to familiar birdarang form.ྭ She took it delicately, examining it from every angle. She was trying to determine if it was a fake. It looked exactly like the ones Nightwing had been known to use.

"The stranger threw this at Terry's head. The kid's lucky not to have a hole in his forehead," Bruce said, as though he were speaking of the weather.

She sighed and set it down. She could not refute the authenticity of any of his evidence. No one could make replicas so perfect or plant phony blood like this. Plus, she had her own security tapes to back up all he had showed her. There was no way she could pretend this wasn't real. Nightwing was back. She raised a hand to her head and massaged her forehead. She could feel a monstrous headache coming on.

"Lord, this is just so hard to believe. How is this possible?" she asked.

"Well, Bruce and I have a theory about that," Terry's voice echoed through the cave.

Both looked up from the computer to glare at the teenager. He cringed under their intensely annoyed gazes. "Sorry," he muttered.

Barbara turned back to Bruce. "What theory?"

Terry looked like he was biting his tongue to keep from saying anything. Bruce glanced at his overeager protégé with disapproval, but inwardly he was pleased. Yes, Bruce thought, the boy is learning. After a moment, he gestured for Terry to speak. Terry grinned triumphantly.

"We think Nightwing was thrown forward in time by the dimension machine that was located in Star Labs," Terry explained to Barbara. She listened closely to all Terry told her about the theory. He described with an enthusiasm she couldn't help but admire. When he was done she looked to Bruce for confirmation of all the teen had said.

"It seems possible," Bruce nodded.

Barbara folded her arms across her chest and grumbled. "That would explain a lot of things."

Terry smiled, weakly. "Yeah."

All of them were silent for a long moment.

"You said Nightwing was dangerous," Barbara remarked.

Bruce nodded. "He's seriously harmed and almost killed several people. He would never go that far unless there is something making him do that."

"Well, he did go up against Scarecrow before he was supposedly thrown through time," Terry pointed out. "What exactly did that guy do anyways?"

Both glared at him again. He felt like crawling into a hole to hide for the rest of the evening.

"Just think of him as Spellbinder. The same abilities to control people only not with their desire but their fears," Barbara explained in brief.

Terry's eyebrows shot up. "He sounds like a lot of fun."

Barbara shot him a dirty look and turned back to Bruce. "Do you have any idea what might be causing Nightwing to act so violently?" Barbara asked Bruce.

Bruce nodded. "I might. The dart that Terry picked up along with the blood sample had some interesting residue inside of it."

Bruce tapped a few keys and a long list of information poured down the screen. It listed all the ingredients, supposed effects of a drug made by those ingredients, and such. Barbara studied it all carefully.

"It's got all the basic fear drug components except for a few new things I do not recognize," Barbara said.

"You are correct," Bruce nodded.

Terry sighed in boredom. "So what does it do?" he prompted.

"That has not been determined yet. I would need to study Nightwing's behavior further before I can make any conclusions. That is nearly impossible to do at this point. We do not know where to find him."

There was a frustrated silence before Terry perked up.

"Wait! Max is supposed to meet him again on Wednesday! She ran into him the other day and invited him to coffee. We can find out more about him then."

Barbara stared at him in surprise. "You're willing to use your friend as bait?"

"Actually…," Terry smiled, sheepishly. "She made me promise to let her go."

They both stared at him.

"Are you crazy?" Barbara asked.

"I didn't know the situation was that bad at the time and you try reasoning with Max when she gets this way. Besides from what Max told me he seemed to act just fine when he wasn't angry," Terry replied.

"Only for now," Barbara growled.

Bruce sighed. "It's worth a shot."

"Bruce!" Barbara stared at him.

Terry shook his head. "Believe me if you knew Max this would be the easiest way."

Bruce had to agree with him on that point. Barbara threw her hands up in disgust and gave her consent.

"Yes," Terry grinned. For once he had actually won his side of an argument. Now all he had to do was take care of Max.


	9. Chapter 9

Dick Grayson strolled down the little avenue Wednesday afternoon where only a few days before he had saved the pretty, pink haired young woman, Maxine. He wandered toward the only cafe on the street where he was assuming they would meet for their coffee date. How could he refuse a lady when she made such a nice request? He was looking forward to seeing her again. Maybe he would be able to coax some of the answers he needed out of her as well. Yeah, so he had a hidden reason to meet with her again.ྭHe needed to find out what all was going on in this city. A newspaper didn't cut it. Maxine seemed intelligent enough to tell him what he needed to know.

He smiled when he saw her waiting just outside the door to the café. He walked up behind her and tapped her on the shoulder. "Maxine?"

She jumped and spun around. When she saw who it was she gave him a brilliant smile. "Richard."

He tried not to cringe. He had forgotten that was the name he had told her. He couldn't stand being called by his given name. He always felt like he was in trouble when it was used. He smiled, wryly. "Call me Dick for short."

"Then you call me Max," she countered.

"Fair enough," he replied and then bowed to her with a flourish. He offered her his arm with a grin. "Milady."

She chuckled and slipped her hand into the crook of his arm. He led her into the café with her hand tucked against his side. Just out of the corner of his eye he saw a young man lurking by the café several meters away near a fruit stand. He glanced over quickly to see the young man watching them intently with a frown. He looked away before the guy saw Dick studying him.

He brought Max back to the little table in the far corner of the café. He seated her with her back toward the door. He had chosen a spot good for privacy and good surveillance of the place. He did so more out of habit then anything. It was a habit he had picked up from Bruce long ago. Paranoia did sometimes have its advantages. At least he would know who came and went in the café. He knew no one could listen in on their conversation from here. Max noticed what he had done with a slight narrowing of her eyes. Oh yes, he was quite smart.

A pretty female waiter came over at Dick's beckoning, and gave him a smile. Obviously he had come to the cafe a few times during the week since he had been back. Dick looked over at Max expectantly.

"What would you like, Max?" Dick asked.

"An espresso," Max told the waiter.

He quirked an eyebrow at her with interest. "That's pretty strong stuff."

Max shrugged and grinned.

"And what will you have, Mr. Grayson?" the waiter asked him, sweetly.

He looked up at her. "How about a cappuccino today, Lissy?"

The waitress nodded. "Sure thing." Then she walked away toward the counter to get their drinks.

"You seem to know the staff here pretty well," Max remarked, shrewdly.

"I like to get to know the people around me. You never know when they may become helpful," Dick replied.

Max raised her eyebrows in surprise at this bold statement.

"So, Max…," he leaned back in his chair, "the famous line, tell me about yourself."

She shook her head with a slightly nervous laugh. "You obviously watch too many movies."

"I've got to keep my mind occupied somehow," he quipped. "Now come on. I don't bite."

She made a rude noise, which he found amusing, and crossed her arms on the table top. He studied her closely as she leaned forward. She had large, dark brown eyes, full burgundy red lips, and of course the short vivid pink hair. He found her hair quite entertaining. It was an overly bright color that suited her, and he thought she would probably not look quite right without it. He took in the rest of her with a quick thorough eye. She had beautiful, smooth chocolate brown skin, delicate hands with long fingers, and ample sized breasts. She was altogether quite pretty.

"Well," Max broke through his thoughts with a knowing smile. "I suppose I should get this part of the interrogation over as quickly as possible."

She also has quite a good sense of humor, he noted with a chuckle.

She began to tell him herself, hesitantly at first, but his attentive attitude encouraged her to open up. She told him that she was eighteen years old and was a senior in high school. That information surprised him a little, but he did not let it show. She acted so much older than her years. She told him that she was to be valedictorian of her class, had scored a perfect on her GATs, and was an electronics wizard. She was not trying to impress, which she did anyways, but tell him the simple facts. He noticed while she talked that she did not mention anything about her parents. That intrigued him quite a bit. The more she told him about herself the more he began to like her. She was incredibly smart, witty, and such a friendly individual. He had known college students that would not have known half the things she did at her age.

Her age did not bother him. He did not feel guilty about sitting here with her, and snatching her from the "proverbial" cradle. She was after all a grown woman in the eyes of the government. She could make decisions of her and take care of herself, as she had so aptly told him. Besides, he was not looking to become serious with her in the least. They were enjoying coffee for now and when the time came he would extract from her the information he so desperately needed. His instincts had been correct when he thought this girl would be able to give him some of the answers he was looking for better than others could.

She paused in her talking to accept her espresso from the waiter, and waited while Dick got his. They turned back to each other when the waiter left. There was a moment of silence between them as they sipped at their drinks. Dick relaxed more and smiled contentedly as the coffee burned down his throat to warm his insides. He closed his eyes for a moment with a heavy sigh. All the worries for just a moment seemed to slip away and the voices that he could sense the back of his mind had quieted completely. When he opened his eyes again, Max was giving him an amused look.

"You've no idea how long it has been since I got to sit down and just have a cup of coffee. I usually just run in here and grab a drink before leaving," he told her with a tired smile.

Max saw the exhaustion lurking just behind his eyes that he seemed to be holding off by sheer force of will. When was the last time he had truly slept? "I can only imagine," she said.

He smiled at her, but his attention was attracted towards the door for an instant when it swung open. The young man he had seen outside at the fruit stand walked into the café. The dark haired teenage boy looked around until he spotted their table. Max glanced over his shoulder, and caught sight of the young man as well. The two teens locked gazes for a moment, before the young man settled at a table on the opposite side of the café. Dick smirked slightly at what Max had just unwittingly told him in that brief moment. The young man was a close friend of hers. He had come to look after her and make sure she didn't get in trouble. Dick turned back to the conversation at hand. For now he would ignore the young man.

"What about your parents?" he asked softly when she had turned back to face him. "You didn't say anything about them."

Her expression at once became darker as a frown came to her lips as she gripped her cup tightly. Dick had hit a sensitive subject. "They're gone. I live with my sister."

He did not offer her an apology. He sensed that she did not want one or his pity. She was strong, and she did not want to be fawned over like she was some idiotic little girl. He admired her for that and understood how she felt all to well. ྭྭ

"I know how you feel though maybe not quite the same," he sighed, then explained. "My parents are dead. I watched them die."

The pain was just as fresh and sharp as the day it had happened. It would never lessen or go away. It would always hurt like this. He looked up in surprise as her hand closed over his and squeezed gently. She held his for a moment longer before pulling away.

"Well, what about you?" she cleared her throat. He appreciated her effort to get the conversation back onto comfortable ground. "Tell me about yourself."

"Me?" he laughed. "What can I say about myself? I'm 25, out of college, and I live alone. I'm just a regular guy."

"You seem like you are trying to convince yourself of that," she pointed out with a sly smile.

He shrugged and made a surrendering gesture. "Maybe I am."

"Do you have a job?" she swirled her drink around in her cup and kept her tone carefully indifferent.

"Not a proper one. I suppose you could call me a security guard," a quirky smile spread across his face.

She smiled back. "I see."

Security guard indeed, she scoffed to herself.

They chatted about this and that for a while but nothing of much concern. Dick didn't want to push it and seem to over eager for information. She did not seem in a rush to leave so he let the conversation go where it would. She talked animatedly on any subject which he found endearing. She seemed so wise as well as focused for one her age. He listened to her talk and spoke when it was needed. When a loll fell over the conversation for a few minutes he decided now was the time to start trying for the information he needed.

"Max, it's been a while since I've been in Gotham. I was wondering if you could help me out with a few things," he said, slowly.

She raised her eyebrows at him and looked thoughtful. A while, ha!, she forced herself not to roll her eyes. "Sure, of course I will. What do you need?"

Perfect, Dick thought.

"I need to know if Bruce Wayne is still alive," he looked down into his cup.

"Yes, he is," she replied, then added without thinking about it. "In fact, my best friend Terry McGinnis works for him."

Dick looked up sharply, and his gaze seemed to pierce right through her. She had a "deer in the headlights" look and seemed to want to desperately take back what she had just said. "Works for him? What does he do?"

Max fiddled with her napkin, stalling for time. Why had she said that! Dear Lord, she was supposed to be smarter than that! There was just something about him that made her totally forget herself and want to tell him everything. Her brain just seemed to lock up when she talked to him– at least that was how she felt.

"He's…ahh…well I guess, you could call him Mr. Wayne's personal assistant," Max stammered.

Oh really, thought Dick. Bruce only ever had Alfred as a personal assistant/butler, but he had been more like a loving uncle to the Bruce than anything. That told him that Alfred was probably gone by now, and that depressed him. Alfred had been one of his dearest, oldest friends. He pushed his thoughts away from that. Bruce was too old to be Batman so it was obvious he would pass on that mantle to someone else, someone young enough to carry it for many years to come. Was this Terry McGinnis the new Batman he had run into three times already?

Dick glanced past Max to the young man watching them. That was probably Terry. He seemed to fit the description of a kid Bruce would take in. He had the black hair, dark eyes, and lean, athletic build. He seemed to be around the same age and height that he had guessed Batman to be. Well, yet again, Max had unintentionally given him a great deal of important information. He had just figured out who the new Batman was. He knew from Max's reaction that she knew Terry's secret too. She had not meant to give it away. So she wasn't the only one with secrets. He found this exceedingly interesting.

"Does Mr. Wayne still live in the Manor?" Dick pressed.

"Yeah," she answered, quietly.

Another silence fell over the table, but it was awkward this time.

"So why do you want to know about all this?" Max burst out.

Dick hesitated before answering. "He and I are…old friends. I'd like to pay him a visit for old times' sake." He almost grinned at the irony in what he just said.

"Really?" she remarked.

"You wouldn't happen to know how I could reach him, would you?" Dick pressed.

"He's retired now so he mostly stays at home. I'm sure you could call him there," she told him. "Anyone else you would like to know about?"

Dick frowned and scrutinized her face. She knew something that he didn't. He could tell, and he had a feeling it had to do with him. "Yes," he said, carefully. "I wanted to know where I could find Barbara Gordon."

Max smiled in a knowing manner. "I'm sure you could find Commissioner Barbara Gordon at the central police station any day of the week."

"Commissioner?" he shook his head in surprise and murmured. "A lot of things have changed."

Max felt a sudden stab of sympathy for Dick. He didn't ask for this to happen to him. He had been thrown forward in time to a place that was familiar but very different to him. It must be hard for him to cope with so many new, strange things to learn and take in. She decided she had best tell him the other thing about Barbara before he found out in some other awful way. He deserved to know.

"Barbara Gordon also got married quite a while ago, Dick," Max told him, trying to sound casual, "To District Attorney Sam Young.

She felt guilty for doing that to him but he had to know. It would be unfair for him to go see her and find out that way. Which would have been worse? Dick stared at her with a devastated look on his face for a brief moment. It was gone almost before she could identify it.

"I'm sorry, Dick," she murmured to him, not thinking about what she was saying..

He raised his head and looked into her eyes. The depth of emotions she saw in his dark eyes was startling. "No," he shook his head and offered her a weak smile. "Thank you for telling me. I guess it shouldn't really bother me so much. I just wish I could have been there for the wedding." He lied through his teeth on that one. It was painful obvious.

Max gave him an encouraging smile before steering the conversation carefully away from Barbara and such things. She talked about her high school and her friends, drawing him away from his black thoughts and keeping him interested. She led him on a round about way to what she wanted to ask him. She didn't want him to get suspicious of her yet.

"You know," she was saying, "Terry and I are working on a project in Psychology class. I was wondering if you would be willing to help."

He propped his chin up on his hand and gestured for her to go on.

"He and I are supposed to write a report about the possible motives of why an old hero used to protect Gotham," she told him.

"Oh, let me guess, the old Batman? He's probably legend by now and he certainly was many years ago," Dick smirked, remembering old times long gone.

"No actually," she looked down at her hands, then back up at him. Her brown eyes seemed to be reading his very thoughts. He shifted uncomfortably and reached for his cup of coffee. "We have Nightwing."

Dick almost choked on his sip of coffee and stared back at her, guardedly. The look in her eyes was one of quick calculation. He knew that look because he had done the same many a time, and not more than a few moments ago as well.

"Do you know anything about Nightwing?" she asked in a falsely innocent voice.

He schooled his features into one of indifference. "I know a little." What was she getting at?

"You know, he disappeared a long time ago. I always wondered what happened to him," she commented, tracing the edge of her cup with one finger while keeping her eyes fixed on him.

He furrowed his brow and gazed into her eyes, trying to read what was going on behind them. "What are you asking me for?" he asked with complete seriousness.

She shrugged. "You seemed so interested in the old Batman that I thought you might know a little about Nightwing."

He stared at her a moment longer before she shifted her eyes nervously back at her friend on the opposite end of the café. Then he understood what she was implying. She knew who and what he was. She knew everything. It stood to reason that if she knew her friend's secret that she would of course know his. It all clicked into place. He felt like a fool for not seeing it sooner. The two of them had been going about in circles and playing with each other the entire time. How ironic! He leaned forward when she returned her gaze to him and he smiled wolfishly. She looked unnerved by that sudden predatory look.

"You know who I am, don't you?" he remarked, very quietly.

She opened her mouth to deny it but he cut her off.

"You know all about Nighwing…and who he really is."

She swallowed hard and saw that she could not talk her way out of this one. He would know if she tried to. "Yes, I know."

He frowned. "What are you after?"

"Answers," she replied, sincerely. "The truth."

He did believe her, but he didn't like it. "What about your friend, Terry?" He gestured at the young man at the other table, "He knows of course. That's why he came here with you."

She looked back at Terry then at him in shock. "How did you-?"

"You both need to learn to be more subtle. I've been in this business for years, Max. I learned from the best as I'm sure you know," he pointed out.

She sighed heavily. "Yes, Terry knows. He was the one who told me, though I would have figured it out eventually. We would never let anyone know, I swear."

"I believe you especially if your Terry works for Bruce," he smiled.

"He's not 'my Terry'," she snapped, irritably.

"Now who's trying to do the convincing?" he laughed.

She scowled at him and crossed her arms.

"Well, Max, I think it is time for me to go," he pushed his chair back and stood up. "Thank you for your help. I appreciate it immensely."

He offered her his hand. She took it and shook it firmly. "It was nice to talk to you, Dick."

"Perhaps we will talk again sometime," he smiled. "Good bye."

"Good bye," she watched him start to walk away.

He paused by her chair and leaned over to whisper in her ear. "Tell your friend," he nodded towards Terry, "to meet me on the roof of the old movie theater on 35th street at ten o'clock . I wouldn't want to keep him out to late on a school night."

With that he was gone, out the door and down the street, before she had time to recover her senses. Max sat there a long moment in stunned silence until she felt someone beside her. She glanced up to see Terry gazing down at her in concern. He sat down in the chair that Dick had vacated only moments before. She said nothing to him right away. She was still trying to make sense of it all in her own mind. She had underestimated Dick and let her attraction for him get in the way.

"Max?" Terry reached out and touched her hand.

She pulled her hand away and gave him a wane smile. He is not 'my Terry', she thought fiercely. He had a girlfriend. She was just his best friend, his confidant. She looked into his eyes and saw the worry in them. She wondered how hard it must have been for him to sit over there while she talked with Dick. Had he been jealous at all? She shook the thought off, returning her mind back to the matter at hand.

"He knows, Terry," she sighed. "He knows everything, about you and Bruce and Barbara. He knows what you are."

Terry sat back and shook his head.

"I'm no good for this job. I am a terrible liar," she confessed.

Terry couldn't help but laugh a little at that. "I could have told you that."

She smiled weakly. "He saw right through me, Terry. I underestimated him and that was a huge mistake on my part."

"Somehow I'm not surprised that he pieced it together so easily. He is good. I should have been more careful. The error was mine," Terry said.

Max looked at him in confusion. "None of this was your fault. And I did learn a few interesting things about Dick that might help."

"Well, I hope it does," Terry remarked, sourly.

Max ignored him. "He said for me to give you a message. Meet him on the roof of the old movie theater on 35th street at ten o'clock tonight."

Terry ran his fingers through his hair, not feeling at all good about this. He wished he had never agreed to allow Max to talk with him. He felt that the encounter had done more harm then good.

"Come on, Max," he got up and took her arm. "Let's get out of here."

She followed him without argument.


	10. Chapter 10

Nightwing stalked along the tops of Gotham's more run down buildings in one of the shadier parts of the city. It was saying something to call this place shadier than any other area since Gotham was one of those cities that seemed infected all over. No matter how one cleaned up the rabble there were always more. Criminals were worse than rats. They multiplied like the worst kind of plague.

Thinking of which, he smirked to himself, as he heard the sound of running feet.

Below a trio of thugs raced down the alleyway between the building he was walking across and the one opposite him. They were running like the hounds of hell were on their heels, and judging by the close proximity of police sirens he didn't blame them. The smallest of the three was clutching a black bag to his chest as though his life depended on it.

Money maybe? He shook his head. No most likely drugs.

He ran along the edge of the building, keeping up with them easily, as he debated whether or not to step in. The cops were pretty close. He wasn't sure if it was worth the risk. He really didn't feel like getting entangled with the police, but what the hell? He was bored and he still had some time to kill before meeting the Bat kid.

He raced forward, throwing himself off the end of the building. He snapped out his wings and glided down to the ground just in time to cut off his new play mates from their escape route down another alleyway. The three would be drug runners skidded to an immediate halt only a few feet from him.

"What the hell!" the smallest snapped angrily. "Who the frig are you?"

Nightwing rolled his eyes. "I leave for a few years and this is the welcome I get."

"I dunno who you are, pal, but if you don't get out of the way we'll move you ourselves!" Shorty threatened.

"Really? Now that sounds like fun. How about we give that a shot?" Nightwing provoked them arrogantly.

The short one stepped back as he nodded at his two buddies. They exchanged quick looks before charging Nightwing at once. The vigilante sighed in bored irritation. Completely typical. He barely seemed to move before the two thugs were laying on the ground groaning in agony.

"Street brawling tactics don't work on me," Nightwing smirked. "You'll have to try something a little more sophisticated."

Shorty fumbled in his pocket as he back pedaled hurriedly. "Real cute. How's this for sophistication!" He whipped the gun out of his jacket pocket and trained it on the vigilante.

"C'mon. Are you even trying?" Nightwing taunted. He sprang forward into a graceful flip as Shorty shot off a few rounds at the place were he had been standing. He landed with in easy reach of his quarry. He back handed the gun from Shorty's hand like he would swat away a fly. The gun skittered off into the shadows of the alley. "C'mon, impress me."

Shorty stumbled away with a frightened yelp. He frantically searched the alley for anything he could use for a weapon. He snatched up a rusting metal pipe and brandished it like a sword. "Don't play with me!"

"I'm waiting to be impressed," Nightwing shot back in a mock annoyed voice. He stalked toward the short thug with a predatory smile. He easily dodged the few swings Shorty aimed at him. "That's it?...To bad. Good night, Shorty." One powerful uppercut laid the thug out flat. He watched in amusement as the short drug runner crumpled to the ground. The rusted pipe clanged against the concrete after it fell from Shorty's now limp fingers. The pipe rolled and came to a stop against his boot. He toed it onto the top of his foot before kicking it up into his hand. "Pathetic," he remarked to himself as he stared at the pipe.

Yes, pathetic. Worthless. Kill him!

Nightwing jerked as if he'd been struck. The voices were back–louder and with a vengeance. He shuddered as soft hysterical laughter flitted through the back of his mind.

Worthless. Worthless! Kill him! Kill him!

The pipe was raised above his head, preparing to strike, before he knew what was happening. His vision began to darken as the voices urged him on, growing louder and more excited. A furious light radiated out from Nightwing's masked eyes as a feral smile spread across his lips..A moment later the pipe began to descend in a swift lethal arch.

B.A.T.M.A.N.

Barbara growled to herself as she chased after the three drug runners with her gun in hand. She was getting to old for this crap. The sting had gone down perfectly until these three had managed to get away with the drugs they had come to find in the first place. Part of it she admitted was police incompetence. They had a rookie on the sting operation in hopes of breaking him in. Instead, he'd managed to screw the operation up when he failed to cover the back door properly.

She hadn't waited for the others to get in their cars and follow. By then those three might be long gone. She may be old but she was still in good shape and she could still run fast. She knew she wasn't far behind them. She could barely see them just ahead down the length of the alley. She lost sight of them as they ran around a corner but not for long.

Her steps faltered when she heard the unmistakable sounds of fighting then the sound of a voice she had not heard in years. She couldn't make out the words, but the tone was taunting. She knew it couldn't be anyone else. No one she had ever met sounded quite like him when he was being arrogant.

She raced around the corner and skidded to a stop at the sight in front of her. Here was the living proof of everything Bruce had told her and the theories Terry had spoken of. Nightwing was well and truly alive, but what she was seeing horrified.

Nightwing stood with his back to her. The three thugs she had been chasing were sprawled out unconscious around him. The one clutching the drug bag lay at the vigilante's feet oblivious to the danger he was in. Nightwing stood over him with a pipe raised up in both hands, beginning to strike.

"Stop right there!" she shouted in the cop voice that came so easily now. She was glad her voice didn't betray the well of emotions she was fighting to keep in check. She felt sick to her stomach at the sight of what her once dear friend had been about to do. She had to remember that she was a cop first, and an emotionally hurt woman second. Nightwing had been a friend, but this man before her now was not acting like the Nightwing she knew. He was dangerous, and the most terrifying thought of all was that he might attack her. She couldn't afford to slip up now.

His grip tightened on the pipe as his shoulders tensed. She knew the signs of trouble from him. He didn't even flinch when he heard the weapon charge. He moved as if to run and stopped dead when a bright laser shot breezed by his ear. The resounding discharge of the weapon echoed down the alley deafeningly against the surrounding silence. He spun around swiftly, pipe raising up in an open threat, and froze. The fierce glare that had been on his face melted away when he saw her. Their eyes met and it was all she could do to keep the gun steady.

"Nightwing," his name slipped off her lips like a prayer.

The rusted pipe in his hand fell to the ground with a clatter. He looked around him in surprise as though he hadn't realized what he'd almost done. His eyes came back to meet hers though, searching hers with desperation. She felt tears prickling her eyes as she begged God that he would recognize her. It had been so long, Lord, so very long and the sight of him was tearing at her heart.

Please, know me!

Understanding flashed through his eyes. "Babs?" he whispered disbelievingly, unconsciously taking a step forward.

She swallowed hard, willing her voice to work, but no words would come. It felt like someone had seized her throat and was squeezing it tight.

"Halt right there!" one of her officers voice shattered the charged air.

Nightwing glanced at her one last time before vanishing into the shadows faster than an eye blink.

"Where the hell did he go?" the officer snapped, whipping his head around trying to peer into the shadows.

"It's no use. He's gone. Get some back up over here so we can get this sorry lot handcuffed and on their way to jail," she snapped crisply.

The officer hurried to comply. The Commissioner was angry and he wasn't sure how he had caused it but he wasn't about to stick around for it.

B.A.T.M.A.N.

Nighting only stopped running when he knew he was far enough and there was no worry of having been followed. He turned around in the empty alley to gaze back the way he had come. He knew he would see nothing but he couldn't stop himself from hoping. He knew that had been Barbara. The voice and face were older and deeper with age but those eyes. God, he would know those eyes anywhere. She was the only one who made him felt like she could see right through him and strip him bare of all defenses. Not only that she had called him by name with familiarity that was more than just passing knowledge of a long missing vigilante. No that had been Barbara Gordon beyond any doubt.

She had changed though–not just from age. She seemed harder from the horrors life had forced her to suffer through. Was part of the weariness and sorrowful his fault? He felt his heart clench at the thought. He never wanted her to suffer because of him. It was not just the harder expression on her face but the way she had held that gun unwaveringly at him. The warning shot had been close enough for extreme discomfort. There was no doubt in his mind that she would have shot to kill if he remained a threat in her eyes. She was all cop now. Cops couldn't afford to be prejudice in who they shot that was dangerous–whether they were friend or not.

He felt something in his gut twist at that thought. Would she have killed him with out a second thought? Would she put him down like a rabid dog if he went out of control? He shook those thoughts from his head. He would find a way to stop what was happening to him. He wouldn't give anyone an excuse to shoot at him.

He had to go meet Batman. If anyone could help him now it would be Bruce and that kid as much as he hated to admit it. He never wanted to look down the barrel of Barbara's gun again and know that in her eyes he was a threat. He had to end this before it went any further. He turned and began to run down the alley once more in the direction of the old theater.

B.A.T.M.A.N.

A group of four kids strolled down the back alleys on their way home from the store. They were in no hurry to get home before curfew. They were laughing and chatting animatedly about this and that. They passed by a recycling bin, and the only girl in the group snatched up an old newspaper with a picture of Batman on the front page. She smoothed out the wrinkled paper and stared at the picture in fascination.

"'Becca put it back. You have enough pictures of Batman to wallpaper your whole room with them," a boy, who was obviously her brother, said in exasperation.

Rebecca ignored him. "You ever wonder what would make a man turn into a crime fighter like Batman?"

One of the other boys shrugged. "The guy's probably mental. Why else would you run around beating the crap out of people when you have the police to do it for you?"

"The police can't handle everything, Nick," 'Becca rolled her eyes.

Nick shrugged. "Then you get S.W.A.T."

"My mom has a thing for the old Batman. She says that he was the true hero of Gotham City ," the last boy, Josh, finally spoke up.

"There used to be a whole team of those Bat-freaks at one point, right 'Becca?" her brother asked.

'Becca gave him a dirty look. "They aren't 'Bat-freaks,' Chris. And yes there was a team of them."

"Wasn't there four of them altogether?" Josh asked.

'Becca nodded. "Yeah, and you get a cookie if you guess who all four are."

"That's easy," said Chris, and then began to count them off on his fingers. "Batman, that kid Robin, Batgirl," he wiggled his eyebrows, "and that Nightbird guy or something like that."

"It's Nightwing, genius," 'Becca corrected him.ྭྭ

"I saw a picture of that Batgirl chic once. She was hot," Nick put in and grinned.

Rebecca rolled her eyes.

"My mom thinks they are all dead now," Josh remarked.

"Why do you have to be so morbid all the time?" 'Becca asked him. "Who says they're dead?"

Chris shook his head. "If the old Batman is still alive he would be just that…old. The rest of them all just seemed to have disappeared. Who wants to think about that? It's depressing."

"So they are probably all dead," Nick said, smugly.

Chris ignored him. "Why does it matter anyways?"

"It's just speculation," 'Becca pointed out.

"It would really suck if they were all dead," Josh said.

There was a moment of solemn silence.

"Maybe they aren't," a new voice broke in from above them.

All of them looked up and their jaws dropped open in shock. Nightwing was staring down at them, from his perch on a fire escape, with an amused grin on his face. No one said anything, they just gapped at him. He waved his fingers at them, demurely, before turning away and jumping to the top of the roof. A moment later he vanished into the shadows of the night.

Nick licked his lips and looked over at the rest of them with a stupid smile. "Well, I guess they're not all dead after all."

The rest of them gave him disgusted looks.

B.A.T.M.A.N.

Batman waited tensely on the roof of the old theater where Nightwing had said to meet him. He wasn't sure why he had come. He was really not in the mood to get threatened again. Still, he knew not all of it was Nightwing's fault. Scarecrow's drug had a pretty powerful effect on him. How would he know, until it was to late, whether the drug was affecting Nightwing or not when he got here? He shifted uneasily, waiting nonetheless for Nightwing to come. He couldn't turn away when it was Nightwing who had asked him to come.

"I'm glad you decided to come," Nightwing's voice floated out from the shadows. A moment later the rogue vigilante seemed to appear onto the roof.

How does he do that? Batman thought. He studied the man before him now like he had been unable to before. Nightwing really wasn't much bigger than him. In fact, he was willing to bet they were around the same in height and weight. Right down to looks, he realized, the two of them were very much alike. Even in their suits of pure black the only big difference was the symbols on the chest and the masks. But Terry had worn that Nightwing mask once when the Batman suit had been out of commission after a nasty fight. He hadn't really stopped to think about the man who had owned. Now that man was standing in front of him. A piece of walking history that had not aged, but dangerous history none the less. (Epi 4 season 2)

"What did you want?" he asked curtly, keeping his distance.

Nightwing watched him keep a wary eye on his movements. "You don't have any reason to be afraid of me. I won't attack you."

"I'm not afraid," Batman snapped, irritably. "Pardon me for not being so trusting of a man who's threatened to kill me twice already."

A flicker of regret and helplessness flitted across the other's masked face. "I'm sorry."

Batman felt guilty for letting his quick tongue get away from him again. Nightwing had not come here to hurt him and it had never been his intention to do so now, or at any other time. He had done what he had to defend himself and when he didn't it was because he could not help it. He relaxed, and nodded. "How could I miss a chance to meet one of the old Batman's legendary partners?"

Nightwing snorted, but smiled. "Not that legendary. I haven't done anything to earn that title."

"Oh yeah, being the Boy Wonder for years and getting to fight along side the old Batman, and then later doing a disappearing act for thirty years is nothing," Batman rolled his eyes.

Nightwing shrugged and sat down on one of the buildings many broken heaters. "I did what I had to and the last was more of an accident."

Batman looked unconvinced.

"I was surprised to find that this theater was still standing, especially with that new theater just around the corner. This place was broken down when I was a kid," Nightwing steered the conversation safely away from him for the moment.

"I guess you didn't notice the sign then. This is a historical building now. I think the city plans to renovate it eventually," Batman told him.

"That makes me feel old," Nightwing muttered.

There was a awkward silence before Batman broke it.

"So what is this all about? I'm sure you didn't come here to have a heart felt chat with me," the younger hero remarked.

"Let's stop playing games then, shall we?" Nightwing crossed his arms over his chest. "You obviously know who I am and I know who you are. I need to get in touch with the Boss and the fastest way to do that is through you."

"'The boss.' That's an aptly chosen nickname for him," Batman grinned, but sobered at Nighwing's unimpressed face. "Alright, what am I supposed to tell him then?"

"I need to speak to him urgently about something that involves me. Something is seriously wrong and I need his help," Nightwing replied, clenching his fists.

Batman raised his eyebrows in surprise. He wondered how hard it had been for the older man to say that. "We already have some idea of what's going on."

"Then you know this needs to be dealt with quickly," Nightwing snapped.

Batman put up his hands in a surrendering gesture to placate the older vigilante. "How is he supposed to contact you?"

"He won't, I will. Tell him to meet in front of Wayne Corps. at five tomorrow evening," Nightwing smiled and stood up.

Batman looked baffled. "So that's all?"

Nightwing gave him a look that he thought only Bruce used, the "you obviously weren't paying attention" look. "What did you expect?"

"Maybe a reason why I should even bother to give him the message after you tried to kill me twice. Or even a nice please and thank you would work," he replied sarcastically.

"You're going to do it because it's your duty to do so when someone asks it of you," Nightwing replied silkily, before adding. "Please and thank you."

Batman crossed his arms over his chest and grumbled. "What a pain. Doing one's duty gets to be a real chore sometimes."

"Don't lose hope now, kid. You've still got years of crime fighting ahead of you," Nightwing smirked.

Batman gave him a cynical look. "There goes my bright future. My mother will be furious."

"Sacrifices must be made for the greater good," Nightwing pointed out.

"You mean my life will be sacrificed for the greater good," Batman shot back.

Nightwing chuckled. "Welcome to my world. I could get to like you, kid."

"Gee, thanks."

"So now if you are done complaining, I think I will take my leave."

"Oh sure, go ahead. Be my guest," Batman replied, snidely.

"Thank you...really," Nightwing turned and melted back into the night.

Batman touched the side of his head near the microphone pick up. "I'm assuming you got all of that."

"Yes," Bruce answered quietly.

"So what do we now?" he pressed.

Bruce was silent for a long moment. When he did speak again the answer was simple. "We wait."


	11. Chapter 11

"You know, Grayson really isn't such a bad guy when he's not threatening to kill me," Terry remarked, then added. "But he's got that annoying habit of Bruce's where he leads you in circles until you think your head will fall off in confusion."

Max snorted. "It must be an art form heroes take up. And I could have told you Dick was a decent guy."

Terry rolled his eyes. "That's a bit of a biased statement, don't you think?"

"Why? Because I spent over an hour with him on a date and found him utterly attractive and charming?" She looked up from her laptop with a grin.

"You think he's charming!" Terry choked on his drink.

Max scrutinized him suspiciously. "Yeah. Why? Are you jealous?"

Terry snapped back a little too quickly. "No!"

"Uh huh."

"You just seem to have a thing for dark, weird guys who are a bit psycho," Terry said, coolly.

Max looked down at her laptop and muttered something that sounded a lot like, "You mean someone like you?"

Terry gave her a confused look, not quite sure what he heard but hoping it was as good as he thought it sounded. Max glanced up at him and for a moment he saw something change in her eyes. The expression was almost pleading, trying to make him understand something. Could she really be attracted to him? Did she want them to be more than just friends? The idea made his heart beat a little faster. Maybe what he was hoping he saw in her eyes was just some twist of his imagination. She didn't really like a guy like him, did she? Before he could think anymore on the subject a familiar voice broke through his thoughts.

"Terry?"

"Huh?" Terry looked up to see Dana and smiled, distractedly.

She didn't return the smile. "I need to talk to you."

Max gave him a sympathetic look.

"Dana, I really-."

"Don't give me any lame excuses about why you can't right now, McGinnis! You're not going anywhere until we get a few things straight," Dana snapped.

Terry swallowed hard. "Alright."

Dana glared over at Max, who started to collect her things. "Well, I know when I'm not wanted."

Dana watched Max with a sharp eye as she walked away, leaving Terry alone with Dana. He didn't think facing even Batman's worst villain was as bad as facing an angry Dana. He would have liked nothing more than to disappear right then.

"I've had enough, Terry! I can't do this anymore!" Dana snapped the moment Max was out of earshot.

"Do what?"

"Don't play dumb with me! You know what I mean. You stood me up again last night, and I am tired of it. I've lost count of how many times you've done that to me!" Her voice had gone low with barely held back anger.

Terry started to stammer out an apology. He had completely forgotten about the date. He felt like a total twip. How could he have done that to Dana? Again!

"I'm sick of you excuses!" she cut him off. "I'm not going to keep waiting around for you to get your priorities in order. Clearly, I'm not your main concern at all. You disappear on me all the time. You never tell me what's going on and you are so damn secretive! I can't be in a relationship where my boyfriend doesn't even trust me enough to tell me anything!-" Terry tried to say something but Dana ignored him. "I'm tired of watching you hang around with Max. And don't even try to tell me it's just because of that project. It isn't! You don't even make any effort to be nice to my friends when I sit with them or spend time with me at school! And it is obvious to everyone here, except maybe you that you are head over heels for Max!"

Terry stared at her in complete surprise, struck dumb by the revelation she had just dumped in his lap. Dana took a deep breath, anger and tears shining in her eyes. Her lovely face was a mask of determination. She was forcing herself not to start crying in the middle of her speech.

"I've had enough. We're through, Terry."

Terry could only gape at her, feeling eerily calm. Somewhere inside of him a part was sighing in great relief. He was tired of trying to hide things from Dana and sick of breaking her heart every time he wasn't there for her. She deserved better. How long had they danced around each other like this, neither coming right out with the truth? Why had they waited so long to do this when it was now plainly inevitable? She was right of course. He did like Max and had for quite some time now. His feelings for Dana, which had once been so strong, had weakened in the months that had passed. It had been gradually and he had hardly noticed, but now it stared him in the face and he was a fool not to have seen it. They no longer understood each other or communicated the way a couple should. This was the right course for them both. No more playing games or running in circles about one another.

"I'm sorry, Dana," Terry whispered.

She nodded and a few tears started to slip down her face. "Don't try to change my mind."

"No, I think you are right. This is for the best," Terry said to her.

"Yeah," she murmured, somewhat taken back by how easily he consented.

"I still want to be your friend, Dana. You do mean a lot to me," He said quietly. "Is that ok?"

She nodded silently and took another deep breath. "Good bye, Terry."

"Good bye, Dana."

He watched her walk away with mixed feelings. He felt as though a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders, but felt guilty for what he had put her through. He admired her for the courage it had taken for her to stand up to him and say all that. She was strong. She would thrive better without him. It had been the right thing to do, for her sake.

B.A.T.M.A.N.

Sam Young stormed through the police precinct offices with only one thing on his mind–yelling at his wife. She had been avoiding him ever since this Nightwing case broke out. Now she wasn't telling him what was going on at all. He had a right to know when she was in danger, dammit! She was his wife!

He stomped into Barbara's office without even bothering to knock first. She looked up in surprise from the paperwork sitting on her desk. At the expression on his face, she sat back in her chair with the look of a woman ready to weather the hurricane.

"Why didn't you tell me you ran into Nightwing again last night–on your own! I've been worried sick about you every since this case came up! You chase after drug runners like you're a young cop again then hold off Nightwing on your own? Are you crazy! What if he had hurt you? That man has nearly killed a dozen people by now–including Batman–and you charge in to handle him alone! What would I have done if he'd hurt you?" Sam ran out of breath in his tirade.

Barbara smiled wearily. "I'm sorry I scared you, Sam–."

"Damn right you scared me!" Sam snapped.

"I'm also sorry I haven't been telling you about everything that's been going on. I admit that this case is a little touchy for reasons I don't want to get into right now. I didn't know Nightwing was going to be there last night or I would not have gone after those drug runners alone," she held up her hand to ward off Sam's words. "I know I shouldn't have anyways. Sometimes I forget I'm not as young as I used to be."

Sam was no good at staying angry with her. "Alright, but for my sake please be more careful. I hope you explain later what this whole Nightwing mess is about. In the mean time, it looks like you have a real mess on your hands."

"Yes. I've decided we had better release the information about the fraud Nightwing to the public. He is becoming more of a danger than I anticipated and the people deserve to know." Barbara told him.

"So you know for sure that this guy is a fake?"

Barbara smiled again only this time it had a bitter feel to it. She hated lying to Sam about this but she was not ready to tell him everything. Not yet. Some wounds ran to deep. "Yes. The real Nightwing has been dead a long time."

"Just be careful what you see to those reporters. They're like sharks," Sam started to warn her.

"Sam, I'm not a rookie cop anymore. Stop worrying," she admonished him lightly.

Sam shook his head. "I can't ever stop worrying about you, Barb. I love you to much."

"I love you too," she replied with a softer smile.

He walked over and gaver her a quick kiss on the cheek. "I'll let you get back to work. See you tonight."

Barbara watched him leave with a guilty conscience. He deserved better than her. She didn't know why he put up with her at all. She wished she could tell him the truth, but some secrets were hard to give up. She would tell him one day. She knew the time would come when she would have to, but not today.

B.A.T.M.A.N

It was a beautiful day for once in Gotham City. The sun was high in the sky, beaming down brightly on the weary citizens of that normally gloomy city. Bug puffs of clouds floated lazy across the light blue sky. Gotham Central Park was alive with families, couples, and friends out to take advantage of the pleasant atmosphere as long as it would last. The soft breeze ruffled tree leaves, grass, skirts, shirts, and hair. The whole scene was incredibly peaceful. It was a glimpse of a care free and happy Gotham that was rarely ever seen. There wasn't anything to dull it or dampen the day. There was no muggers, no super villains, and no gangs. Perhaps they had all decided to take the day off because it was to nice a day to ruin it for anyone.

Dick smiled to himself as he drifted lazily back and forth on an old swing in the playground. He had his head tipped back slightly so he could enjoy the sunlight and the breeze. He felt like a vampire, pale and deprived, seeing sun for the first time in years. The sound of children laughing and shouting carried on around him, not bothering him, but making him feel more at ease instead. He smiled wider as he watched the children playing all about him in the sand boxes, on the play ground sets, and chasing each other in the grass. He felt almost nostalgic as he watched them through half lidded eyes; wishing he could have that time back when he was a child with no worries before his parents were gone.

This was the first time in days he had been able to sit, relax, and breathe deep. He felt like he had been on his toes forever since falling into this mess. It had been one bad thing after another. He needed this brief reprieve. He needed to hear, see, and feel why it was he continued to fight for Gotham. He needed a renewed sense that what he was doing was right–that all the sacrifices, pain, blood, sweat, tears, and fears were worth something. He knew it was all for the smiles on the faces around him. These kids, these people; they deserved to grow up and live happily without fear of walking down a street and being mugged or worse. He wanted these people to have the life he never had. He would fight for that. He would die for that.

It was the only way he could find a sense of fulfilment in his life. It was why he had to find a way to stop this growing evil inside him. He would kill himself before killing anyone. He needed to continue being the protector. He would fall to pieces if he lost the ability to be that person for Gotham. 'Nighwing' was not just a profession. It was his livelihood–his whole world.

And he could feel it crumbling with every hateful word those voices in his head whispered.

He had to stop it.

He had to.

B.A.T.M.A.N.

Terry sat on a bench outside watching the football players practice for the upcoming season. He had been sitting there for quite sometime trying to sort out all that had happened that day. Dana's words kept running through his head.ྭ You are head over heels for Max! He knew it was true. Why had it taken him so long to realize it? She was always there for him. She understood him and knew everything about him down to the deepest secret he had. Dana had never been a part of his life like that. He cared for her, he would go out with her, but more often then not he always went to Max when something went wrong in his life. He felt guilty for all that he had put Dana through. She had given up so much for him and done so much, and yet he had never really repaid her. He had never really been there for her. He had always skipped out on her. He felt terrible that he had been like that to her, and yet he was so relieved that he no longer had to play anymore games. It was not worth causing more hurt. He was glad Dana had the courage to do what was right for them both. Had the whole thing been up to him they would have gone in circles with each other until he finally saw the truth of the matter, which might have been God knows how long.

How strange life was. He had spent more than a year with Dana and it had taken him that long to realize they just were not meant for each other. As he thought about it he began to grasp how many times he felt something other than just brotherly friendship for Max. So many times he had looked at her and thought she was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. So often he had thought she was the smartest woman he had ever met. How many times had he felt the urge to hold her, touch her, or kiss her? He was such an idiot. How could he have not seen it? How could he have denied these feelings so long? It was only of late that he had even begun to notice the increasingly strong attraction he had toward Max. Then Dana had spoken exactly how he felt out loud before he even knew himself. Then the truth had hit him full in the face. Lord, he was such an idiot!

He sighed, watching the players with out really seeing them. What was he supposed to do about this? Should he tell Max how he felt? He wondered if she felt anything other than friendship for him. Sometimes when she looked at him or when she said something to him, he thought he might have seen the same attraction he felt. This afternoon in the cafeteria had been one of those moments. Maybe she did feel something for him and he had been to blind to see it. That would be ironic indeed. Not to able to see that he and Dana were so wrong for each other and then not to notice that his best friend was feeling something other than just a buddy-buddy friendship for him. That would be the ultimate stupidity.

"Terry?"

A soft well-known female voice broke through his tangled web of thoughts. He looked up in surprise to see Max standing beside him.

"Hey," she smiled down at him.

He felt a little shiver race down his spin and found to his surprise it was not unfamiliar. How long had that been happening when she smiled at him? "Hey."

She sat down beside him, glancing out at the field and watched the players for a moment. "What are you doing out here? You hate sports."

"I needed to think," he answered honestly.

"I'm sorry, did I interrupt?" she asked.

He shrugged. "Yes, but it was a wanted interruption."

"Oh."

They were both quiet for a moment, searching for something to say to the other. Each wanted to blurt out what they were wishing they had the nerve to say but could not do it. There was a strange tension between them that had never been there before. It disturbed Terry and he did not know what to do about it.

"I suppose you heard about what happened today with Dana," he finally blurted.

She nodded. "Yes, I did. I'm sorry things ended that way."

He shook his head. "Honestly, Max, I'm relieved. I was stupid to lead her along like that for so long. She didn't deserve it. I just…I never felt I could trust her the way I do with you-." He stopped as he became aware of what he just said.

Max looked over at him, startled.

"It's just—I feel different when I'm with you than I did when I was with Dana. I always felt that there was apart of me I had to hide from her—that she never really knew me. The real me. With you…you know everything about me, Max. I never had to hide anything. I don't have to pretend to be something I'm not and you still stuck with me even after learning my darkest secrets. I don't think Dana would have. That's why I never felt I could tell her. That's why I know now that we never could have worked together for very long," he explained, haltingly.

Max stared at him. "Do you know how long I've waited for you to figure this out? It took Dana to break up with you to do it." She chuckled quietly.

"Yeah for being an investigator I am such a prize idiot," he smiled.

Max grinned. "It's no excuse. You're a guy."

"What is that supposed to mean?" he exclaimed in mock indignation.

She shrugged.

Terry let the silence length for a moment, trying to decide if he should come out with the truth.

"Max?"

"Yeah?"

He took a deep breath. "I-."

He was interrupted by a loud shout as someone called for Max to hurry up.

"I have to go Terry," Max said regretfully.

"It's alright. It was nothing important," he lied.

"See yah later, Ter," she leaned over and gave him a warm hug. "Try not to feel to guilty about what happened between you and Dana."

He returned the hug tentatively. "Thanks, Max."

She smiled once more at him before turning and running to meet her sister out in the parking lot. Terry sighed and slumped forward in his seat. In a way he was relieved that he didn't have to explain himself to her just then, but he was also disappointed. He had wanted her to know. He needed to know if she felt anything for him. When would he get the courage to bring this up again? He shook his head and muttered to himself.

"For the City's greatest hero you sure are a coward."


	12. Chapter 12

Thursday evening, Bruce walked out of Wayne Corps. with Terry by his side. It had been another long board meeting surrounded by idiots. He didn't really know why he bothered to put up with it anymore. He didn't need to. He was actually supposed to be retired, but Bruce Wayne did not know the meaning of that word. He was so used to constantly running all his life that he did not know how to slow down. He would probably be running until the day he died—which he hoped would come sooner rather than later. He hated being old and weak.

So here he was on a perfectly beautiful day thinking morbid thoughts and being his normal peevish self. Nothing new in the life of Bruce Wayne, or at least that was what he thought until he took a passing glance across the street. He was just about to get into the back seat of his limo when he froze.

Staring back at him, from the opposite sidewalk, stood a young man dressed in black. His dark eyes were hard and challenging, his expressions like stone, and his hands were shoved deep into his jacket pockets. He was the image of a young man that Bruce never expected to see again in this life time. Yet there he stood as tall and defiant as the last time Bruce had seen him.

They stood silent and unmoving for what seemed like an endless span of time. Bruce hardly heard Terry's inquiries about what was wrong. He waved the confused teen towards the driver's side of the car. He broke eye contact with the young man across the street and climbed into the limo. He opened the door opposite him before gesturing for the black clothed man to join him. A moment later the young man slid into the seat, slamming the door shut. Terry's eyes widened in shock.

"Drive," Bruce ordered Terry.

Terry nodded and did as he was told.

"Bruce," the young man acknowledged his friend in a clipped tone.

"Dick," Bruce replied just as curtly.

"Nice to see you again," Dick greeted in his usual sarcastic manner.

Bruce took a deep breath. "It's been a long time."

"For you," Dick added.

There was a second of strained silence.

"You've gotten older. I never thought I would see that happen," Dick leaned against the car door, watching the older man closely.

Bruce smiled, faintly. "Neither did I." He almost seemed to be talking to himself for a moment before he snapped out of it. "You don't seem to have aged at all."

"I think I've found away to stay eternally youthful," Dick grinned wryly. The harsh lines disappeared from his face. He appeared to be like any other normal, happy young man his age for just a moment in time.

"I'm sure it's not at all worth it," Bruce remarked.

Dick immediately sobered. "No, it is not."

Bruce said nothing.

"I need your help," Dick said, quietly. There was no point getting around the true reason for this confrontation.

"Yes, I thought you might," Bruce folded his hands together.

Dick did not look surprised. "Yeah, I figured."

"That blood sample that was taken from the night you arrived gave me all the information I needed. I noticed the fear toxin in your blood, although it seems to have several new components I've never seen before," Bruce explained. It was probably the most he'd spoken in a while.

Dick nodded solemnly. "It was a new experiment; very different from the drugs we are—were," corrected himself, "used to dealing with. I wonder if Scarecrow even knew the extent of the effects it would have."

"And what are the effects?" Bruce inquired, leaning forward in great interest despite himself.

"Voices," Dick glanced away from him and out the window. Bruce furrowed his brows in confusion. "Voices that scream at me to do things I would never dare do in my right mind. They urge me to harm and kill people. They were quiet at first and infrequent. Now they are growing strong—louder. When they take over I go blank. I no longer have any control over my actions. When I become aware again I find that I've done terrible things to people. I can't stop it."

Bruce sat back with a contemplative look on his face. "That does not sound like Scarecrow's type of work."

"I know," Dick snapped, and added insistently. "But it is his."

Dick sighed heavily, covering his eyes with one hand. "I don't know what to do, Bruce. They are going to drive me insane. I won't be able to hold them off much longer. Soon I won't be able to control them at all, and then God only knows what will happen."

"Besides these… voices is there anything else?" Bruce inquired.

Dick shook his head. "No."

"What do you think triggers these voices?"

"I-I don't know. Certain people, stress– I'm not really sure. It just seems to spring up randomly," Dick replied. "I don't know what Scarecrow was trying to accomplish with this drug. In the past his fear drugs were used to frighten people into doing what he wanted. I got a dose of that one first hand, remember? Then he created the drug that allows a person not to fear. A person without fear can be easily manipulated as well. No fear, no distractions. They were his to control. This one…I don't understand what this one is for or why he would make it, but it is worse. Worse than anything else he's created yet."

"I'm looking into it, Dick, but I can't make you any promises," Bruce told the younger man.

Dick closes his eyes and shook his head. "That's not enough, Bruce. Aren't there any of the old antidotes left or something that can be modified to hold this off for a little while?"

"No," Bruce shook his head.

"Why?" Dick bit out angrily.

"Scarecrow died long ago. There was no reason to keep them and they had become obsolete. This new drug is quite different from any of the others. A new antidote will take some time and research to create. All the chemicals are difficult to gather these days," Bruce explained.

Dick slumped back in his seat. "So what do you suggest I do? I can't hold this off for to much longer."

"I will do the best I can," Bruce said. It was not much of a reassurance.

Dick sat up and glared at the older man. "That's not good enough!"

Bruce did not look impressed by Dick's outburst. "Patience."

"To hell with patience! You're not the one trying to fight this!" Dick snapped. His hands clenched into fists and his expression darkened. His eyes became filled with hatred as he glowered at Bruce. Bruce stared back at him fearlessly. The two stayed that way before Dick finally blinked and the terrible light that had shone in them faded away. He took a deep breath and slumped back once more.

"I think under the circumstances you should come back to the Manor with me," Bruce suggested.

"Pull over, Terry," Dick murmured, not even bothering to answer Bruce.

ྭྭྭྭྭྭྭྭྭྭྭ Terry steered the car over to the curb, stopping smoothly. Dick opened the door and started to climb out.

"Dick," Bruce made the young man pause. "I will do what I can."

"I'll meet up with you again in a few days. Don't try and find me before then," Dick snapped. "I don't need you babysitting me."

Bruce ignored his last remark. "Stay out of trouble."

Dick smiled sarcastically, got out, then slammed the car door shut. Bruce motioned Terry to drive. A moment later Dick was lost to sight as he disappeared back into the crowd of pedestrians on the sidewalk.

"Could you please tell me what that was all about!?" Terry finally couldn't stand it any longer. Bruce didn't answer. Terry rolled his eyes in frustration.

"Terry?"

The teenager sat up a bit straighter eager to hear what Bruce was about to say. "Yeah?"

"Drive to the police station."

Terry slumped down in his seat, scowling in annoyance. "Sure."

B.A.T.M.A.N.

Bruce strode into the police station as though he owned the place. He navigated the halls and offices as he easily as he would his own home. Terry could only follow close on his heels in order not to become hopelessly lost. The old man led him up to the top most floor of the building to the last office on the floor. Bruce opened the door and began to weave his way through the work cubicles. He was just walking by the last one before reaching Barbara's office when a deep, familiar voice stopped him.

"Mr. Wayne?"

Bruce glanced to the side to see Barbara's husband, Sam, seated behind a desk completely covered in files, newspapers clippings, and various other things.

"Nice to see you again, Sam," Bruce greeted as amiably as possible.

The detective was not fooled. "What can I do for you? Barbara is rather busy at the moment."

"I'm hear to speak to her. It's a urgent matter," Bruce answered coolly.

Sam scowled. "Well, I'm sorry but she is not to be disturbed—"

"It's ok, Sam," Barbara's soft, slightly gruff voice broke in.

They all glanced over to see the older woman standing in the doorway, watching them all with a mixture of annoyance and poorly concealed worry.

"C'mon on, Bruce, and tell me what this is all about," Barbara gestured behind her to the interior of her office.

Bruce and Terry walked past her, at her bidding, took up the seats in front of her desk. She settled down in her chair after closing the door. A low sigh escaped past her lips. She looked at Bruce in a way that made Terry think she really didn't want to hear what Bruce had to say because she knew it would be bad news.

"This is about Dick?" she asked in a barely audible voice.

Bruce nodded. "I believe I know what it is that drug does to him."

Barbara sat back seeming to brace herself.

"It uses the subject's worse fear against them. It uses the subject's normal aggressive response to fear to overcome logic and common sense to make him become or do what he fears most," Bruce explained.

"So what is Dick's worst fear?" Terry questioned.

There was silence for a moment before both males suddenly looked over at Barbara. She stared back at them fiercely. She knew what it was but she felt like it would be a betraying her friend's trust by telling them, yet, she could not allow Dick to harm anyone else. She sighed heavily.

"He's terrified of becoming a monster. A killer and sadist like all those he's tried so hard to rid Gotham of," she looked away from them.

"Oh God," Terry gapped, forgetting Bruce's instructions to shut up and let him do the talking for once. "It'll turn him into a killer! How fast does this drug work?!"

Bruce shook his head and glared at him with warning. "As far as I can tell it could take days or weeks depending on how deep the fear is, how much is in the system, or the individual's ability to fight it."

"Well, it's working pretty damn fast!" Terry nearly yelled. "He's tried to kill me twice!"

"Calm down!" Barbara snapped. "How did you find this out?"

Bruce looked in the eyes. "He came to me today. He told me that he heard voices in his head telling him to kill people. What he described to me did not sound like Scarecrow's line of work at first because he always uses fear on his victims. Then, I thought, what if you're greatest fear could turn you into your greatest nightmare. That's what the drug was for."

"God in heaven," Barbara murmured. She got to her feet and began to pace in agitation. "What do we do about him?"

"We try to keep tabs on him. There is little we can do until I can make an antidote," Bruce answered, simply. "We have to destroy the drug's effect before it does its worst."

"Great. That makes me feel better," Terry growled as he crossed his arms and scowled. "Why didn't we just hold him when we had him?"

Bruce scowled at him. "He would have attacked us or found a way to escape. We can always find him."

Barbara sighed. "You've forgotten one important factor, Bruce. If Dick doesn't want to be found it will be impossible to do so."

"Well, Max and I were gonna check out that old warehouse he used to live in, but I'll do that tonight. Maybe if he's staying there we'll at least know where his base of operations is and we can keep up with him easier," Terry told them.

Barbara looked semi-impressed. "For once, kid, you're showing some intelligence, but he's probably already cleared out of there. He knows it will be the first place we check."

"So what then?" Terry sighed in frustration.

"We'll worry about finding him later. For now, we need to make the antidote," Bruce said, getting to his feet. "Thank you, Barbara, for your help. It's time we left." He gave Terry a pointed look. The teenager sighed and got up, knowing when to take a hint.

Barbara ushered them out into the main office. "Keep me posted, Bruce."

He nodded then strode away with Terry following close behind.

B.A.T.M.A.N.

Two days passed by with little excitement. Batman had continued to search for Nightwing on his nightly rounds of Gotham, but found no trace of him. Bruce worked on the antidote as quickly as he could, but it was complicated and many of the components had to be specially ordered. It could be days or weeks in the making. Things were not looking at going so well. So it was needless to say that Batman was quite frustrated after a couple of wasted hours with no luck at finding Nightwing.

After hours of searching, and performing minor acts of heroic rescues, he headed home for hopefully a little sleep before school. He dropped down onto the roof of the apartment complex next to his own. He was exhausted from running around after a man that might as well be a phantom. He heard the soft scrap of footsteps behind him. He spun around, and his eyes went wide with shock.

"About time you got here," Nightwing seemed to materialize out of the shadows.

"What are you doing here? How do you know where I live?" he blurted in shock.

Nightwing smiled, but it was not a friendly gesture. Batman felt a shiver run down his spin. This man could be very dangerous if that fear drug finally took over. "How I found out where you live is not important," the older vigilante replied off handedly. "I needed to talk to you. This seemed the most convenient place to wait."

"Look, why don't we make an appointment for tomorrow to discuss this. I'm slagged," he grumbled.

Nightwing smirked. "It'll only take a minute."

"Fine," he sighed.

"I wanted to know how the Boss was getting along with the research," Nightwing told him.

He shook his head. "Progress is slow. The experimenting with components and getting them specially shipped in is impeding the process."

"Not what I wanna hear," Nightwing growled, running his fingers throw his hair in frustration. He slammed his fist into a heater leaving a dent. "I can't keep sitting around doing nothing! There's got to be another way!"

"He's doing the best he can."

Nightwing half shouted, losing his composure. "And it's not fast enough!"

"Patience–"

"Is not an option!" He snapped. "You don't understand what it's like trying to fight this. The voices keep getting a little louder every day. They're screaming at me right now to hurt you–kill you," he took a menacing step closer. "Each second they get stronger until my own thoughts are drowned out. It's only my failing control that keeps me from attacking you."

Batman stood his ground.

"I'm not waiting around any longer. I'm taking matters into my own hands." Nightwing said in a suddenly calm tone.

"And what are you going to do?"

Nightwing glared at him. "That isn't your problem." He turned to walk away.

Batman caught his arm and spun him around. "I think it is," he growled.

Nightwing shoved him off roughly. "Don't bother, kid. You don't know what you're up against."

"Don't threaten me," he scowled.

"Then don't get in my way," Nightwing's voice was low and sent shivers of fear skating down Batman's spin. Nightwing turned and jumped over the edge of the building.

Batman sighed heavily, not even bothering to attempt going after him. It was a waste of energy. He had exams to study for yet, and school tomorrow. There was little he could do to stop Nightwing at the moment. He glared over the edge at the disappearing black figure of the older vigilante.

How did he get mixed up in this mess anyways?


	13. Chapter 13

It had been a long day at school for Max. She had to stay behind several hours later than normal to help tutor kids for the upcoming finals. She was worn out and sick of dealing with people who's brains she would swear were the size of a gerbil's. How in the hell they made it through school that far she had no idea. For now she was tired of thinking about it. She wanted to flop on her old, faded couch and vegetate in front of the TV for the next couple of hours.

She rounded the corner to the hallway that her apartment was located on and froze in mid-step. She stared at the tall, dark young man leaning casually against the wall by her door. Why was he here? More importantly, how the hell had he found out where she lived? She frowned. Maybe it was better not knowing.

Her visitor straightened up as she started walking once more. He smiled charmingly at her when she stopped beside him. "Hello Max," he greeted.

"Hello Dick. What are you doing here?" she asked.

He shifted his weight to his other foot. "I need to ask you something important."

She unlocked her door and gestured for him to go in. She didn't know him that well, but he was an old town hero and crime fighter. So far he had done nothing to hurt her or even scare her, but that didn't mean she wasn't unease about letting him into her home. Still, she figured if there was anyone worth trusting it was him. She swung the door shut before heading into the kitchen.

"You want anything to drink or eat?" she asked as she rummaged through the refrigerator.

"Some water would be great."

She quickly poured him a glass before puttering around for something to snack on. "So what is it you want to ask me?"

"What do you know about Star Labs, Max?" he inquired as he sipped at his water

"I know they were one of the top science labs in the country at one time. They experimented in genetics, aerospace design, and other stuff. Why?" she glanced back at him curiously

"Because I need you help. I think you are the only one that can find the information that I'm looking for." he answered cryptically.

She frowned thoughtfully. "I'll do what I can, but I don't understand, Dick. What is this about?"

He avoided her eyes by staring down into his glass of water. "I promise to explain it all later. We haven't got much time."

"Alright." she grabbed a bagel and walked out into the living room where she had dropped her bag.

She dug out her laptop, set it on the table, and plopped down into a chair. She pulled a chair out for him and motioned for him to sit. "What kind of information are we looking for?"

"Anything and everything about Star Labs dating back to just after my disappearance."

"That should be easy to find. You could have done that on the internet at a library," she gave him a baffled look.

He smirked. "I already did. All I found out was that they were forced to shut down their experiments after a major accident. I need to know if the old labs are still there and what's left in them. Only the government would know that."

"You're asking me to hack into a high level security site to find out classified information. I could get in huge trouble if I was caught." she glared at him.

"Like you haven't done it before." he shot back.

She scowled. "Not on this level."

"So? If anyone can it's you. It'll be fun. Come on," he grinned.

"Dick..."

His expression turned solemn. "Please, Max. This is important. One of those machines in those Labs is my ticket home. I have to know if it's still there and hopefully mostly intact."

"Fine. I'll help, but you owe me big time on this." she gave in.

"Thanks, Max."

B.A.T.M.A.N.

They had been searching for hours through database after database of information concerning Star Labs, but found no information that was any help to Dick. Max felt like they had exhausted every possible link but he refused to give up. When they did find it, at long last, it was by pure accident. It was the simple of mistake of clicking on the wrong link that led to their discovery of an information treasure trove. They found a registry of everything left in Star Labs dating back only three years. Amongst the items listed was the machine Dick was most desperate to find. An unwieldy invention (in Max's eyes) that claimed to be able to cross dimensions. To Max, it seemed highly unlikely that the thing even worked. No one else had ever tried to make one or duplicate it. That should say something about its capabilities, yet beside her sat a man that claimed it had thrown him through time. Was it possible? Did it really work?

"Max, I need you to see if they have any up to date specs on that machine. We have to see if it's still in working order," he pressed.

She nodded, worrying at her lip, as she pulled up page after page of technical read outs. She scanned them quickly before finding only a few brief paragraphs that held the information she needed to know. She frowned as she read it. Not good.

"Whoever wrote this said the machine has not been repaired or modified since right about the time after your disappearance. They were to afraid to fix it. Apparently, the story of your disappearing through the machine was published in the Metropolis Times and Gotham Tribute after Robin and Scarecrow told what happened. I guess it must have really freaked out the scientists. The repairs look minor and not very difficult, but it seems they were scared it might cause some kind of time warp or dimension twisting that might be potentially destructive in nature if something went wrong again," she summarized all that she had read for him.

He snorted rudely. "Of course..." he slammed his fist angrily against the top of her table, making everything jump including her. "Damn cowards." He calmed once more, dropping his chin into the palm of one of his hands. He stared at the table top intently as though it would yield some answer to the problem. His eyes brightened suddenly then he turned to face her once more. She immediately felt unease twist in her stomach. "Listen, Max. You could help me fix it. You're brilliant. It would be a cinch."

"No, Dick. Helping you do this is one thing. Breaking into an abandoned governmentally owned building is not my idea of a good time. If I get caught–," her protests were cut short.

"Dammit, Max! Please! I have no one else to turn to! I have to get back!" he jumped to his feet.

She shrank back in her chair. Something was wrong here. Very wrong. "What about Batman? He'd help."

"I've already asked him and Bruce! They're taking to long. I don't have time for them. I have to get back before..." he trailed off, glaring down at the floor. He blinked and returned his fierce gaze to her face. "The point is Max that you are my last chance. If I can get home they'll be able to help me. It's only a matter of days now."

"Days? Dick, what are you talking about?" She could not hide her confusion.

He shook his head. "Never mind. Just promise me you'll think about it. You can give me your answer tomorrow, but I will tell you this much. If you refuse then I'll do it on my own. I don't care if I fail. It would be better than the alternatives."

Before she could speak or move, he had disappeared out of her apartment and down the hall. She dropped her head into her hands with a sigh. How had this happened? How had everything suddenly spun so far out of hand? And what did Dick mean by everything he just said? She didn't understand any of it. She knew someone who would. She reached for the phone, dialing the number to the one person who could give her some answers.

B.A.T.M.A.N.

Bruce had decided to give Terry the night off. Something that was as rare as actually seeing the old man smile. He definitely didn't argue with the order to go home and get some rest. He was out of there before Bruce could get another word in. It was the first time in a long while, that Terry actually got to sit down and eat dinner with his family. He lazed about after dinner doing his homework before joining his little brother in front of the TV in the living room. He figured his little brother was more than overdue for some sibling time, meaning good brotherly torture, but before he got very far the news headline caught their eye.

"Rumors of another masked vigilante in Gotham City have been running wild for several weeks now. At last, there has been some confirmed truths behind it all. Police apprehended several Jokerz a two weeks ago who claimed to have been attacked and nearly killed by a masked man in black. The man had the symbol of a large blue bird on his costume many of the gang members were said to have reported when questioned.

Four middle school teenagers also claimed to have sighted this mysterious man. They told police that they believed the man to be the long dead vigilante, Nightwing, who was once known for operating alongside the original Batman. The Jokerz as well as the teenagers descriptions of their attacker matched that of the former protector of Gotham.

Police have at last come forward issuing statements that they have in their custody security tapes that prove the witnesses to be partially correct. They believe the man captured on film to be impersonating Nightwing. They believe someone is going to great lengths to use the dead vigilante's guise as a way to gain attention...of a very negative nature.

When asked if there was any possibility that this could be the real Nightwing, the police firmly stated no. The vigilante was assumed dead over 30 years ago and would be well past middle age if he still were alive. The security tapes and photos of the recent incidents are of a man they have calculated to be in his early twenties. They said it was simply impossible for this masked man to be the same Nightwing of 30 years past.

Police have no clues as to who this person may be or where he may be hiding. If you see a man matching this profile–," a picture of the Nightwing 'impersonator' appeared beside the reporter's face. "Please call the Gotham police immediately. He is considered to be extremely dangerous. In further news tonight–."

The TV winked off suddenly. Matt rolled over and scowled up at his mom.

"That's enough. It's past your bedtime, mister," she folded her arms over her chest, giving him the patented 'don't you dare argue with me' look that all mothers perfect.

Matt sat up with a sigh, glancing back at his older brother. "Do you think it's true, Terry?"

"About what, twip?"

Matt glared. "About some guy impersonating Nightwing. Duh."

"I guess, if the police think so," Terry answered evasively.

"What if it's the real guy. That would be sooo schway! The real Nightwing who used to work with the old Batman! I wonder if he'd be friends with the new Batman. I bet he could kick anyone's butt...well except Batman's of course," Matt babbled excitedly.

Terry smiled wanly as he shoved his little brother in the direction of his bedroom. "Yet, that would be schway. Now go to bed, twip, before Mom gets angry."

"Alright," Matt grumbled.

When he was gone, the smile slipped from Terry's face. He frowned at the silenced TV thinking about what Matt had said about Nightwing. The old town vigilante was definitely no friend to the 'new' Batman. At least, not right at the moment. May be they could have been under different circumstances, but not now. Now Nightwing was a threat that needed to be taken care of. More than likely it was Barbara who had probably come up with the 'imposter' Nightwing idea to appease the press and fellow police forces. How else could she explain away the appearance of a man who was supposed to be dead? He smirked as the last comment Matt had said ran through his head.

"Oh, he can kick butt alright," he muttered to himself. "Even Batman's."

He jumped when the phone rang beside him. He glanced over at the caller I.D. and snatched up the phone. "Hey Max, what's going on?"

"Hi, Terry, guess who just left my apartment," she greeted.

He sat up straighter. "Who?"

"Dick Grayson."

"What!?" he had to force himself not to shout.

Max's voice sounded strained. "I have no idea how he found out where I live."

"What the hell was he doing there?" Terry could not keep the anxiety out of his voice.

"He was waiting for me when I got back after tutoring. He told me he needed my help. I didn't suspect anything so I agreed. We spent hours pouring through old government documents on a place called Star Labs," she began to explain.

Terry slumped back against the couch. "Star Labs...oh God."

"We went through a database list of everything that was last known to be in that lab. We looked up specs on a machine that was supposed to have been a way to reach through other dimensions. Dick says it's what got him here and I saw old articles claiming that's what happened. Do you know what he's talking about?" she asked.

Terry nodded even though she couldn't see it. "Yeah, I do. He's right. It jumped him into the future by accident–a big accident."

"Screw up of the century," Max remarked blandly then went on. "We read up on it. The machine hasn't been used or repaired since his disappearance. He asked me to come with him to Star Labs to help fix it."

"Max, listen to me, whatever you do promise you will not go with him." Terry said in a very serious tone.

Max paused. "Why? Terry, what is going on? He said a lot of confusing things to me and I want to know what the hell he meant. He kept pleading with me to help him, saying things like not having enough time and only a matter days. What did he mean!?"

"Before he was thrown forward a few decades, he fought with Scarecrow. He was injected with a prototype fear toxin. A toxin that turns the subject into what they fear most. In Nightwing's case, a killer." Terry explained simply, in a low voice as he checked to make sure no one was listening.

"Oh my God. That drug is slowly taking over him and I was sitting right there all that time with no clue. My God," she sounded very faint.

Terry gripped the phone. "Max! What it is? What aren't you telling me?"

"He's going to find me again tomorrow. He wants to get my final answer about Star Labs. He said he would go by himself if he had to," she told him.

"Damn," Terry cursed softly. "Max, whatever you do you can't go with him. We've no idea of knowing when he might turn. You have to stay away from him or hold him off at least until I can help. Promise me, Max, that you won't go with him."

Max took a deep, shaky breath. "I promise."

"Good."

"Terry...?"

He wished he was there so he could hold her or something. Anything to help her. "Yes, Max?"

"I–I'm scared," she admitted.

"You'll be ok. Do you want me to come over?" he asked gently.

"No, that's alright, Ter. I'll just lock the door and windows. Besides he said he wouldn't find me again until tomorrow. I'll be fine tonight," she sounded more like she was trying to convince herself with her words.

Terry massaged his temples with his free hand. "Max–."

"I'll be fine, Terry. I'll see you tomorrow at school," she said with forced cheerfulness.

"Alright, but if anything happens you call me," he insisted firmly.

He could almost see Max rolling her eyes at him. "Ok, good night."

"Good night." Terry hung up the phone slowly.

Things had just gone from bad to worse, and Bruce would want to know about it. He sighed heavily. He had a feeling that he wasn't going to get much sleep again that night.


	14. Chapter 14

The Nightwing story from the previous night's news swept through Hamliton High School like wild fire. It was on the lips of every student, and several teachers as well. Everyone had his or her own speculations about the sudden appearance of the 'imposter' vigilante. Many thought he could be the real deal. Why not? Weirder things had happened in Gotham City. Even more assumed that this Nightwing had to be a partner of Batman. May be the crime rate had gotten to the point that it had become to much for one hero to manage. It was possible Batman had called back in old friends to help him out.

Perhaps what was discussed even more was how the police had claimed the vigilante was considered dangerous. If this Nightwing was the real thing why would he be announced as a threat to the police? If it really was an imposter what was the point of using some dead vigilante's disguise instead of an old villain's like the Joker or something? Was the thrill simply to sully a hero's good name?

There were so many other speculations running rampant that by lunch period Terry McGinnis was ready to yell at them that they were all entirely wrong. He had been on edge since morning, worrying about when Dick would make his next appearance. He kept close to Max when he could. She complained that she felt he was more like her body guard then her best friend. He sighed as he slammed his locker shut. Max meant so much more to him then he had thought. The idea of something happening to her made his stomach flip over nauseatingly. He couldn't follow her every where though. They did have classes apart. The next class was one of those. "Max, promise you'll be careful and keep an eye out for trouble," Terry said for the umpteenth time.

Max sighed. "For God's sake, Terry, I already promised fifty times today. I'll be fine. It's one class. Besides I don't think he'd come to the school."

"Yeah," he agreed though more to cover up his anxiety than anything. He knew she was just as shaken up, but she was doing her best to act unaffected. She was right though. She would be fine. Still as he watched her walk off to class he felt unease roil in his stomach. He didn't like waiting around for something to happen.

"She'll be fine," he reassured himself.

B.A.T.M.A.N.

"Hey, Max, where's your boyfriend McGinnis?" Nelson taunted as Max hurried down the steps of Hamilton High.

She turned around to shoot him a glare that made him back up a step. "Shove it, Nelson," she growled. It had been a long, nerve wracking day and it was only going to get worse. She felt like all she had done all day was peer over her shoulder every thirty seconds in fear of a man who could be mentally unstable. As she had predicted he never showed up at the school, but that didn't mean Terry's worry hadn't infected her as well.

Nelson recovered quickly from Max's uncharacteristic outburst. "Awwww...what's the matter, Max? Did your boyfriend–." he stopped abruptly in mid-sentence. She quirked one eye brow up at him. "W-What the hell?" he stammered. He wasn't even looking at her anymore. He was staring over her shoulder in complete disbelief.

"Huh?" she muttered as she turned around, to see what had caught his attention, and froze.

Everyone was stopping all around her, their eyes fixed on a masked man dressed all in black with a blue hawk standing out against the midnight color on his broad chest. He was crouched down on the stone wall not more than two meters from Max with his hands resting on his thighs. His masked eyes were locked on her, watching her intently. He was so still that she would have thought he was a statue if not for the light breeze that ruffled his long ink black hair.

She took a deep breath and forced her voice to work. "Nightwing," she greeted as casually as she could manage though even to her own ears it sounded strained.

"Max," he replied with a smile.

"What are you doing here?" she blurted out.

He straightened up, jumping down from the wall in one smooth, graceful motion before starting towards her. She sensed Nelson scrambling away behind her as Nightwing drew closer. "Did you think about my question?"

"I told you I can't, Nightwing." she replied, backing away herself.

"Max, please, you have to come with me. We have to go to Star Labs. I need someone I can trust."

"Nightwing, I can't. I don't know how to–"

"Max, please! You're the only one that can help. The voices...the voices are getting stronger," he shook his head. "I can't hold them off for much longer. They keep talking–telling me–" He gasped, clutching his head and hunching over. A moment later he straightened up, but there was something different. Something was very wrong. His expression had gone cold and malicious. "Now Max. I'm not asking. I'm telling you that you're coming with me."

She back peddled quickly. "Nightwing, I don't know what's wrong, but I can't do this."

He stalked towards her like a great black panther after its prey. She felt herself begin to shake. The people around her began to move away quickly in fear as well. They knew something was out of place. The look in Nightwing's eyes was feral and cunning. There was danger here they did not know how to fight and few had the nerve to even go against.

"What're you doing here?" a familiar voice caused Nightwing to pause in mid-step and Max to exhale in relief.

Batman stood just behind the other vigilante. His expression was wary.

"I came for Max," Nightwing answered as though that were quite obvious.

"Why?"

Nightwing turned to glare at the younger vigilante. "Because she can help me get home." His gaze returned to Max's. The expression on his face softened and a note of desperation slipped into his voice. "I just want to go home, Max. Please help me."

"Nightwing, I–." her words were cut off by Batman.

"She can't help you. Come with me. I can help you," Batman tried to reason.

Nightwing scowled at him. "Your help hasn't done me any good. I won't wait around any longer." His expression grew darker. He reached out and grabbed Max's wrist in his iron grip. He stared fiercely at her. "You're coming with me."

"No, Nightwing. Let me go," Max whimpered, prying at his hand as his fingers dug into her wrist.

Then suddenly Batman was beside her, wrenching her wrist free of the other vigilante's grasp. "Don't touch her!" He pushed Max behind him.

"Back off," Nightwing snarled, taking a menacing step toward him. "I told you before you don't know what you're getting yourself into."

"And I told you not to threaten me!" Batman snapped.

Nightwing stopped abruptly. His whole body began to shake as he reached up to clutch at his head once more. His breath hitched in his throat loudly. He staggered on his feet and groaned. Batman wasn't quite sure what to do. There was no doubt now that the drug was seriously beginning to effect Nightwing. Something evil was beginning to transform the other man.

"Please," Nightwing stared up at him. His eyes were pleading and wide with fear. "Help me. I don't want to hurt you." He whimpered. He gasped sharply before dropping to one knee. "Please, don't make me hurt them," his last words were spoken to himself.

"Nightwing?" Batman reached out.

Nightwing shuddered violently. When it had passed a terrible change seemed to take over him even worse than before. His hands left his head and curled into fists. He raised his head, expression dark and dangerous. He seemed to have taken on the air of a deadly snake who's gaze had just found its next victim. Batman couldn't stop himself from taking an involuntary step back.

"She's coming with me," Nightwing growled, but his voice did not seem like his own. It was deeper, more deadly. "And you are not going to stop me."

B.A.T.M.A.N.

For once, Barbara Gordon was going home early to spend the rest of the afternoon and evening with her husband. She glanced over at Sam as she drove, feeling horribly guilty for having neglected him and avoided answering any of his questions since the Nightwing events began. She decided that one night off wouldn't hurt from everything that had been going on. Besides which Nightwing had been quiet for a few days now–a matter that made her uneasy. Perhaps he would go one more night without causing trouble and she would get her chance to try to explain to Sam what was going on. God knows, the poor man deserved it.

Her police radio crackled on between their seats as the dispatcher began to transmit an urgent message across the net to all available units. She sighed heavily as she turned up the radio, shooting Sam an apologetic look.

"If it's something they can handle, Barbara, let them handle it," Sam advised quietly. He wanted a few hours alone with his wife. He needed some answers only she could give him and he was growing tired of not getting them.

"Let me at least find out what it is," she argued.

He nodded, but had a sinking feeling in his stomach.

"Dispatch, repeat last transmission. Say again, repeat last transmission," Barbara called across the net and waited impatiently for an answer.

The radio crackled then cleared as the dispatch came across the net, louder and more clearly. "I say again, we have a code 3. Suspicious individual matching description of Nightwing. Location of call from Hamilton High School. All available units please respond. Be prepared, individual considered dangerous."

Barbara put down the radio, slammed on her brakes, and spun the car around. She quickly fished out her portable police lights then reached out the window to place them on the top of the car roof. She switched them on and a moment later they were barreling down the road in the direction of the high school.

"Barbara! What are you doing!?" Sam snapped.

"I'm sorry, Sam. I have to be there for this one." she answered calmly.

Sam protested loudly beside her. "You're off duty! Let them handle it! It's not your job to run yourself into the ground! You don't have to be there for every police activity!"

"I have to be there for this one! I can't explain to you right now, but Nightwing needs me." She growled at him.

"He needs you! You said he was a fake!" Sam barked.

"I don't have time to explain. I have to get there before the other units so please don't ask me anymore questions." She couldn't hold back the small bit of pleading in her voice that leaked through.

Sam threw up his hands. "Alright, alright."

"Promise me one thing, Sam, before we get there." She glanced over at him seriously.

"What?" he asked suspiciously.

She stared fixedly at the road in front of her as cars hurried out of her way. Her fingers tightened around the steering wheel until her knuckles turned white. "Not matter what happens don't try to stop me. There are things going on that you don't understand, but I need you to trust that I know what's best."

"Barbara, you know I trust you," he reassured her.

That wasn't what she wanted to hear. "Promise, Sam!"

"Alright! I promise, but I hope it doesn't get us killed or worse," he snapped at her.

"Thank you," she replied in a clipped voice.

There was no more talking after that as Barbara navigated the streets at top speed, hoping desperately that she reached the scene before it was to late.

B.A.T.M.A.N.

Batman had only a moment of warning to shove Max out of the way. "Max! Run!" he shouted to her as Nightwing launched himself forward. Max stumbled back a few steps in shock as the two collided and hit the ground.

"Batman!" she shrieked as he took a blow to the face.

Batman managed to flip Nightwing off before scrambling to his feet hastily. His eyes watered from the direct hit he'd taken and he lost sight of the older vigilante. He looked around frantically. Nightwing seemed to have disappeared from view. Where had he gone?

"You looking for me?" Nightwing's voice taunted.

He spun around to see his adversary, balancing on the edge of the stair's railing. A feral grin played across the older vigilante's face as Batman leapt for him. Nightwing was already in motion. Before he could react Nightwing had flipped over his head, grabbed him from behind and thrown him into the brick wall. His back slammed into the unyielding stone, leaving a dent as loose brick crumbled beneath his weight. Stars spun sickeningly in his vision from the impact.

"And you call yourself Batman? The Boss would have had me on my knees by now," Nightwing taunted as he strode over to him. He hauled back and swung his fist down towards Batman's face. Batman blocked the blow then landed a clean punch to his assailant's stomach. Nightwing staggered back enough to give him room to regain his feet. He hated being taunted and more than that he hated being underestimated. He'd show Nightwing just how good he could be.

But he was unprepared for the fury and strength of Nightwing's next attack. He was soon overwhelmed by the sheer force of the enraged, out of control vigilante. It was all he could do to keep up his defense while trying vainly to strike back. He had fought against so many others but they paled next to this furious man. In his current state of mind Nightwing could kill him without thought or remorse. He was little more than the predator Batman had compared him to. Nightwing's movements were fluid, graceful, and lethal. He seemed tireless as he attacked with quick, powerful blows. His ferocity was unstoppable. Even with the power of the bat suit lending Batman strength, Nightwing hardly seemed to feel any of the blows he managed to get in–which were becoming increasingly fewer. Batman's moves soon became hesitant and stumbling as he began to tire. He almost lost his footing under another onslaught of ferocity. He knew he couldn't keep this up much longer. He wondered if Nightwing even remembered what he was fighting for anymore.

Batman realized this was one fight he had grossly over-estimated his chances of winning. He was not fighting against an opponent that used weapons, brute force, mind games, or street brawling techniques. He was fighting against a hunter who had been trained in every known martial art and individual combat technique since the beginning of his teenage years. He was up against an opponent he could not distract with annoying back talk, flashy moves, or tricks. He was severely out matched and he knew it–so did Nightwing. He couldn't back down, he reminded himself. He had to protect Max and anyone else who might get in the line of fire. He had to think of someway to stop Nightwing–fast.

He narrowly missed hitting another student as he was sent flying backward against the stone steps. He barely managed to shove the girl out of the way before Nightwing was upon him once more. He was not quick enough to dodge the older vigilante's next strike and took a stunning blow to the head. Black spots exploded in his vision as Nightwing's black gloved hands locked around his throat. To his horror, he was lifted off his feet as though he were little more than a rag doll. He choked, clamping his hands around the suffocating ones holding him up, trying uselessly to make the vigilante let go. The grip on his throat only tightened and his vision began to go dark.

"Nightwing!" Max shrieked. "Stop it! Please! You're not a murderer!"

Nightwing glanced sideways to regard the pink haired girl, but did not loosen his grip. Batman took his adversary's moment of distraction to his full advantage. His fingers slipped inside his belt, deftly grabbing a smoke bomb. Nightwing turned his attention back to him to late. Suddenly his vision and senses were blinded by burning foul smelling smoke. He dropped Batman, staggering backward, coughing heavily. Batman scrambled away from Nightwing, gasping for breath.

Max raced over to her friend. "Terry," she murmured in his ear as she grasped his arm and helped him up.

"Max, get out of here!" he gasped.

"There's no way I'm leaving you to fight him alone. He's out of control!" she snapped.

Batman shook his head. "Then take this." He pressed a small dart into her hand. "If I can't stop him...use it." He pushed Max away as Nightwing recovered and started for him once more.

Nightwing paused mid-step and jerked as though some unseen attacker had struck a blow. He swayed while another convulsive shudder shook his body. He reached up to bury his fingers in his hair, moaning in agony. "I won't–," he gasped out, then trembled violently. As swiftly as it happened it was over. The momentary weakness was gone replaced by the furious being that had been there before.

He raced forward, knocking Batman aside, and pounced on Max–throwing her to the ground. Batman tore him off and caught Nightwing in a powerful upper cut. The hit hardly seemed to slow the wild vigilante down. He attacked Batman savagely with strength born from madness and rage. He pinned Batman to the ground, hands once more clenched around the younger man's throat. He was so intent on his immediate foe that he did not notice Max until to late.

She slammed the dart down into Nightwing's shoulder, sending the drug hidden inside it racing through his system. He flung her away, staggering back as he pulled the dart out and dropped it on the concrete. Max yelped in pain as she landed heavily on her side, staring in fear as he began to come at her again. It was already to late for him. The drug was running through him faster than any he'd experienced, numbing his limps and slowing his body. He stumbled and fell to his knees, trying futilely to fight the effects. He slumped forward bracing himself up with his hands. He felt relief flood through him as the numbness silenced the voices in his head and cleared the dark fog in his mind. It had not won. Not yet. With what little strength he had left, he pushed himself back into a sitting position, turning his head sluggishly to watch Batman.

Batman sat up, unable to suppress the groan that slipped out. Pain seemed to pound in every part of his body. He shook his head gently to clear the black spots in his vision before looking around. Nightwing hadn't attacked him again. He hoped that meant Max had gotten him and not the other way around. He caught sight of the older vigilante sitting on the ground not far from him watching him. Nightwing looked like all the fury that had driven him through the fight had been drained out of him. Now he only looked like a sad, beaten child.

"I'm sorry," Nightwing murmured as Batman got to his feet gingerly.

The students who had not run were beginning to creep forward once more in morbid curiosity.

"Stay back!" Max ordered. "He might still be dangerous." That caused most of them to back pedal quickly.

Nightwing stared blankly down at the ground as Batman stopped in front of him. "I'm sorry."

"You didn't know what you were doing," the younger man crouched down.

"I couldn't stop it. These voices scream at me. I wish they would just go away. I wish they would shut up. I just want to get away...get away," he looked up pleadingly at Batman. He sounded like Terry's little brother Mat for a moment. He looked so lost. "I just want to go home."

Batman felt sympathy for the vigilante. It had to be worse than a nightmare to have all this happen to him. He couldn't possibly imagine how it felt to be unable to control your own mind and body. How could he ever know what it was like to start becoming the very thing you fought?

Before he could think about it any further the sounds of a police sirens shattering the silence. They would be there in a matter of minutes. Apparently one of the students had the sense to call the cops. He glanced up as one lone vehicle with police lights skidded to a stop near them. He was not at all surprised to see Barbara Gordon climb out and hurry over. She kneeled down beside Batman in front of the drugged vigilante, who hardly seemed to notice the new arrival.

"Oh, Nightwing," Gordon whispered, reaching out to gently touch her friend's cheek.

He started, looking up into a pair of eyes he would know anywhere. The face was changed–older, care worn– but he would never forget those eyes. He smiled shakily. "Babs. Nice to see you."

She smiled sadly. "We all thought you were dead. No trace of you for so long. I'm so sorry."

"I just wanna go back, Barbara," he leaned against her comforting hand.

"We're gonna get you home," she promised quietly.

Batman glanced at her sharply. "How?"

"Get him on his feet. We're taking him to the Boss. We'll make a plan from there," she explained in soft voice so that no one else could hear.

"I'm coming too," Max said from behind them.

"Fine, just help us get him on his feet and in the car before the others get here. We don't have much time," Barbara ordered.

Batman took Nightwing's arm while Max grabbed the other. They pulled him to stand unsteadily on his feet. "What if your cop friends find out?" Batman asked.

"Let me worry about that. Now hurry. Into the car." she snapped.

They careful got Nightwing inside the backside car then climbed in as well. They were barely buckled in before, Barbara had stomped on the gas and shot away. Behind them, Batman could see the first of the police cruisers pulling up to the high school. Barbara drove fast towards the Wayne Manor with a determined expression on her face and did not look back once.


	15. Chapter 15

Sam's eyes widened in shock as a pink haired young woman, Batman, and an injured Nightwing were suddenly thrust into the backside of his wife's vehicle. He stared at Barbara as she dropped into the driver's seat then clutched at the dashboard as the car took off at break neck speed a heartbeat later. He twisted around to glance back at the occupants in the back side, two of which gave him sheepish looks, before snapping angrily back around at Barbara.

"What the hell is going on!?"

No one said a word.

"My God, Barbara! What are you doing! That man is dangerous!" he gripped the dashboard harder as she spun around a tight curve at high speed. "You're supposed to be taking him to the police department!"

She glanced over at him with a quelling look. "No! Nightwing is a friend. There is something terribly wrong with him. The police can't help here."

"Then where are we going?"

"Somewhere we can get help," she replied curtly.

Sam thought wondered if only for a moment that wasn't some very bad nightmare. "Barbara you could lose your job over this. You could lose more than that! Stop, please! Let's take him to the precinct!"

Barbara sighed heavily and for a brief second looked all of her hard won years of age. "Sam, you promised."

"Yes, I promised, but I'm your husband. I deserve to know what's going on! More importantly, I deserve to know who the hell that guy is to you that you would risk your life and career for him!" Sam finally lost control of his temper. He was furious with her. More so than he had ever been in all the years that had been married. He was used to her secretive nature, but this pushed boundaries that threatened their relationship.

Barbara took a deep breath, shifting her eyes up to look in the back mirror at Nightwing. The vigilante had finally succumb to the sedative that was coursing through his system. He looked peaceful now as he slept with his head on Max's shoulder as the girl held him steady. She knew Max and Terry were listening but they probably already knew most of the story. It didn't make it any easier to tell her husband what he rightfully deserved to know.

"Nightwing is the man I fell in love with a long time ago. I told you I couldn't love you with my whole heart because of another man. You knew that before we even started dating. Well, he's that man," she said quietly.

Sam stared at her in shock. "Barbara, you told me the man you loved back then was Dick Grayson. You said he died. How can this vigilante...?" he trailed off as all the clues he'd read about and already put together clicked into place. All he had needed to hear was someone tell him the truth.

"Dick Grayson is Nightwing," Barbara replied. "We knew each other for what seemed like forever. We went to high school and college together. But he was always disappearing on me and I could never figure out why. I used to think he had commit issues." She laughed quietly at this.

Sam shook his head. "You told me this Nightwing was a fraud."

"I told the media this Nightwing was a fraud in order to cover up the truth. The truth that this is Nightwing–the real Nightwing. I couldn't let them believe that the real vigilante would try to kill anyone. I just couldn't." Her voice sounded shaky with emotion as she finished. Her hands gripped the steering wheel tighter.

"But how could that happen? It's impossible!" Sam argued.

Batman spoke up. "It's a little complicated." He could triple glares from Max, Sam, and Barbara through the rearview mirror. He shut up and slouched lower in the seat. He had only been trying to help.

"How do you know Nightwing is really Dick Grayson?" Sam asked, hoping against everything that this was some crazy mix up.

Barbara was silent for a long moment. "Because Sam, he and I were vigilantes together."

It felt as all the sound had been sucked out of the car. No one moved or spoke in those tense seconds as Sam processed what his wife had just told him.

"Vigilantes?" Sam barely managed to get the word out.

"I was...Batgirl."

All three of the conscious passengers in the vehicle stared at her in surprise for actually admitting that aloud. Sam made a choking noise before he began to laugh brokenly.

"Barbara, please! That's taking this all to far. This is ridiculous!"

Barbara glared at him with an intensity that he said only when someone questioned her authority at the precinct. "I'm not joking, Sam. This is serious."

He wanted to protest further but he knew she was lying about this. The look in her eyes told him everything. "My God," he whispered. "But how–?"

"That's a long story we don't have time for," she cut him off.

Sam felt like someone had just tipped the entire world on its other end. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

Barbara gave him a dirty look.

"Alright, I guess I would have taken it worse," he admitted

Batman snorted rudely in the back seat and Max smacked him hard in the arm.

"You said we were going some where to get help?" Sam inquired cautiously.

"Yes."

"Where? Wait, are you taking us...?" Sam was beginning to feel like he had lost higher brain functions. It was all coming at him to fast. The whole situation felt surreal and his brain was having a hard time catching up. The only logical place to take him would be back to the Batcave. The very idea was more than he could handle. "This can't be real," was that last thing he said for the rest of the car ride. No one spoke again.

Barbara wove down alleys and back roads at an incredible speed, making the landscape outside the vehicle race by nauseatingly. She took a route to confusing for either Sam or Max to remember. After all, she still had to think of Bruce, Terry, and keeping safe the exact location of their destination. Finally she pulled out onto the dirt path that led straight to the hidden entrance of the Batcave. The entrance opened as the vehicle sped closer just barely rising up high enough for clearance before she shot down the darkened tunnel into the heart of the Batcave.

Bruce stood with his hands folded onto of his cane, looking like an old wizened statue until his gaze fell on the unwelcome new comers and he frowned. "Why are they here?" Bruce growled at Barbara as Sam and Max get out of the car.

Barbara scowled right back . "I trust Sam, Bruce. He won't say anything about this."

"I had to bring Max. Nightwing would have flipped out again if she hadn't come," Batman defended his friend as they pulled the unconscious vigilante out of the back seat.

"There are to many people who know about this place," Bruce grumbled, staring coldly at the two intruders.

Max smiled at him weakly. "I won't tell anyone. I swear."

Bruce waved the excuses aside and led them over to a medical table. Batman scooped up Nightwing and deposited him on the table like he was a weightless rag doll. Nightwing groaned as he began to come up from under the sedative's effects. Bruce glared over at Batman who suddenly looked like a naughty little boy.

"I only gave him something strong enough to knock him out right then. I wasn't thinking long term. I just needed him to stop before he killed me or someone else," Batman snapped irritably.

Bruce didn't say a word as he prepped another dose of sedative to administer before Nightwing became fully functional again. He pulled up the vigilante's sleeve before bringing the needle down to inject the drug. He didn't even flinch when Nightwing's free hand shot up to capture his wrist in a grip like iron. The two glared at each other furiously for a long strained moment before Nightwing lunged forward for the old man's throat. Nightwing's gaze seemed to glow wildly beneath the mask with fervent hate. Bruce's cane swung up in a blur to strike a stunning blow to younger man's head. Nightwing collapsed back onto the table with an agonized groan as the others stared in stunned surprise.

Max couldn't help snickering a little before looking over at Batman. "You nearly got killed trying to stop him and all Bruce does is hit him with a cane. I think you need more practice."

Batman glowered angrily at the girl.

"Don't do that again!" Bruce snapped roughly at the vigilante that was clutching at his head with a pained expression.

Nightwing looked up at his old mentor. The angry intensity was gone form his eyes. All that was left was an exhausted look of understanding.

"Take your mask off," Bruce ordered.

The vigilante tensed as his eyes flickered across Max, Barbara, Sam, and Batman before settling back on Bruce's face. Obviously all of them already knew who he was. The mask was pointless now but he felt exposed with out it. With an angry grimace, he reached up and yanked it off. A pair of dark eyes stared up at his onetime mentor and guardian in open mistrust.

Sam gapped in astonishment when the mask was taken away. Dick's face was untouched by the years that had passed since his disappearance. To hear about it and see it were two different things, because Sam could no longer believe this was just some bad dream. It was all real and there could be no more denying the truth that was lying on that table. Dick Grayson was Nightwing and he was no fake.

It was obvious to everyone that the last few weeks had been rough on the vigilante. He looked haggard with deep, dark circles etched into his skin beneath his eyes from lack of sleep and stress. His face was drawn and pale from trying to fight the inevitable effects of the drug on his own. However, it was the dilated, still wild look in his eyes that unnerved them as he kept his gaze fixed on Bruce. He seemed to be trembling with barely contained anxiety. This wasn't the same young man Bruce and Barbara had known. The proud, stubborn Dick Grayson they had known was buried beneath a drug that was slowly turning into something they all feared and loathed above all. For Barbara, the change was devastating to the image she had held in her heart for all the years he had been gone. She almost wished she hadn't seem him like this. But the reality of it all was something she knew couldn't be ignored.

Bruce quickly examined Dick before the drug began to force him to attack again. He knew it was mostly the drug's effect that was causing those violent outbursts. However, Dick's own anger and betrayal from evidences long past were enough to fuel the drug's effects into more rapid frequent responses. The weeks of it settling into his blood stream certainly hadn't helped. Bruce could blame part of that on himself. He had let his surrogate son roam free despite knowing it would have been impossible to hold him. There were also other circumstances that had just come to light that prevented Bruce from being able to find a cure to the drug. Dick was walking on an ever thinning tight rope and the way to save him seemed next to impossible.

Bruce watched warily as he appraised Dick's injured arm. The wound had been healing much better than he anticipated thanks to Dick's own tending to it. He gripped his cane tighter as the vigilante's hands began to clench and unclench as he swallowed hard. The young man was beginning to lose the fight with the drug again as the sedative's calming effect began to run out.

"Hurry up!" Dick bit out between clenched teeth. God, it felt like his head was going to split open from the volume of the voices screeching in his head.

Bruce reached over and grasped the sedative he had abandoned earlier. Dick's eyes followed his hands as he picked up the needed dose.

"No way, Bruce," Dick objected gruffly. "You suck with needles."

Bruce frowned. "I do not."

"Yeah, you do. You always have," Dick shot back.

Bruce glanced back in irritation when he heard Max giggle and Batman hide a laugh behind a guise of coughing.

"I'll do it," Barbara snapped, snatching the syringe from Bruce.

Dick didn't hesitate to give her his arm.

"My hands might be shaky," she warned softly for only him to hear.

He smiled that soft, sweet smile he always saved just for her. "I trust you, Babs."

That smile still had the same effect from years past. Her hands steadied as she injected the drug into his system. In a few moments, he was relaxing back against the table as his eye lids grew heavy. He looked peaceful again and she could see the man she had loved before he disappeared. Her hands lingered on his arm for a moment longer before finally pulling away.

Bruce waited until the vigilante was completely under before he began to strap down Dick's arms and legs.

"What are you doing?" Barbara growled.

"Do you want him lose if he wakes up before we expect?" Bruce asked bluntly.

She sighed heavily before helping him finish the task. She hated doing this to Dick but she knew it made sense. The last thing they needed was him going wild when they least expected. God only knew how much longer it would take for the drug to completely overwhelm Dick's mind. They didn't have long left to act before it was to late. They all knew this.

"I hope you have some idea of what to do with him," Sam practically snarled. "Otherwise, I think it would be best to put him in Arkham."

Bruce and Barbara both spun around to glower at him.

"Don't ever say that again," Barbara looked furious enough to use the gun that was strapped at her waist.

Sam took a step back in shock at the hostility on his wife's face. "I'm sorry. I'm just worried for you and the rest of Gotham if he goes over the edge."

Barbara fixed him with a determined stare. "We're going to save him. He's going to be fine."

No one moved for a long moment as the strained silence seemed to close in around them. Barbara was the first to move as she turned to give Bruce the same look she had given her husband. The old man didn't seem fazed. After all what was an angry woman to all the nightmares and monsters he'd lived through.

"Do you have an antidote yet?" Barbara asked curtly.

Bruce's shoulder seemed to stoop a little further. "No, it's impossible to replicate it."

"What!?" Four other voices bounced off the walls of the Batcave.

"The drug has a specific compound that no longer exists. It was experimental to begin with when Scarecrow made this drug. It has long since been destroyed because of it's unstable nature. Without that crucial compound it is impossible to replicate the antidote." Bruce explained.

Barbara's fists clenched at her sides. "Dammit!" she hissed. "How long have you known this?"

"I only discovered this in the last several hours."

"What do we do then?" Batman spoke up.

Max answered suddenly. "We have to get him back to the past, just like he said. Scarecrow's the only one that has the cure."

"How? That stupid machine is probably wrecked," Batman reminded her.

"It's not wrecked. I can fix it. It only needs few minor repairs. Dick and I researched it the other night. He knew I could repair it. That's why he needed me and he was right," she insisted.

Batman shook his head. "I don't like it. You don't know for sure if the thing will work! What if something goes wrong?"

Max looked hurt before her expression turned angry indignation. "You don't think I can do it? You don't trust me to fix it?"

"I never said that! I just don't want something bad to happen to you! It might not be worth the risk! I would never forgive myself if you got hurt!" Batman answered vehemently.

Max's mouth fell open in shock at the sudden declaration. Batman looked like he wanted to swallow his tongue. The three older adults stared at them silently as the awkward silence stretched out.

"Really?" Max asked quietly, somehow needing those words to be confirmed.

Batman looked down at the floor before shooting her a sheepish look. "Yeah."

"We have to at least try. What other options do we have? Anything else might be to late for Dick? And Barbara's right, we can't put him in Arkham," Max pressed the issue earnestly.

Batman looked over at Bruce and Barbara for some form of help. Bruce remained stoically quiet. Barbara nodded in agreement. "It's our best and only chance," Barbara stated, glancing over at the sleeping vigilante. "Drugs won't work forever."


	16. Chapter 16

Terry tapped his fingers impatiently on his knee, not really feeling it through the thick second skin of the bat suit. He sat slouched back in a chair watching the News on TV on one of the many monitors the Bat computer was equipped with. It had been a few hours now since they decided on a plan but so far he felt as though nothing had been accomplished. He glanced irritably over at Max and Bruce as they poured through files on the broken piece of machinery in STAR labs that Max had to repair. Bruce's 'be prepared' state of mind was really beginning to drag. Not to mention with Dick lying knocked out behind him it was like sitting near a ticking time bomb.

He fidgeted again as Sam sighed heavily beside him while Barbara made another circuit of anxious pacing around the table where Nightwing was lying. Sam had gone through the initial curiosity of exploring what so few people had ever seen, and had come to sit beside Terry to pretend to be interested in something other than his wife's agitation. Terry understood why Bruce wasn't to happy to see some many people in the Batcave. This place was their domain as well as sanctuary and all these intruders were ruining the peace that one found while down there. Not to mention, Bruce was right about the more people knowing the more dangerous it became. Granted it was only Max and Sam, but how hard would it be for someone to make them talk if it ever came to that. He felt his stomach flip over at the thought of anyone harming Max just to get to him. He glanced over to watch her as she scrunched her eyebrows up while she read through another schematic.

His head whipped back around as the anchor woman on the news channel mentioned something of Batman and a video of his high school appeared on screen. Everyone else went still behind him, even Barbara, as they all watched tensely to see if everything had all gone to hell after what they had done.

"Hamilton Hill High School was visited again by the mysterious vigilante Batman this afternoon just after the last period bell was rung. But it was not only Batman that was present at the high school today but a vigilante that had not been seen in over thirty years. Only a few days ago police came forward with evidence that someone was possibly impersonating Nightwing, an old partner of the original Batman. Today that impersonator, or the original according to some, came after a high school girl right here on the front steps. Witnesses said that the imposter vigilante was trying to take the girl against her will 'to help him get home.' During this kidnaping attempt Batman arrived and was able to subdue the impersonating Nightwing. Not however before they destroyed a portion of school property and nearly injured several other students. After which both disappeared along with the female student who had been attacked. The police are unsure whether to proceed in filing and conducting a missing persons investigation on the girl, who is now identified as Maxine Gibson, because it seemed she left willing with both vigilantes. Witnesses also reported that an older woman arrived at the scene of the fight, after Batman subdued the imposter vigilante, who helped them escape. When the police questioned the witnesses no one could give them anymore information except the description of the escape vehicle. Police are searching for that vehicle now and will gratefully except any help from the public.

In further news..."

"Damn!" Barbara swore, making Terry glance back with a smirk. "They'll figure out that it's me who helped if they haven't already."

Sam frowned. "I tried to warn you, Barbara. This has jeopardized your career and your life! What are we gonna do if they put two and two together?"

"I don't know! We can deal with it later!" She snapped angrily. "Right now we have a very sick man on our hands! He's our main concern!"

"He comes first for you then?" Sam glared at her accusingly.

She scowled right back. "Yes, he does for right now."

"Enough!" Bruce growled. No one argued when he spoke in what had clearly been his Batman voice. The tone was cold and emotionless, leaving no room for debate or response. "We've finished going through all of the documents and discovered what parts of the machine need repairs. They are simple enough with modern technology."

"What's the plan then?" Terry ventured to ask.

"You take Max and Dick to STAR labs. She will conduct the repairs and you will send him back. Under no circumstances are you to go through the machine with Dick. If the machine shuts down again or something else goes wrong we may not be able to bring you back. Do not go through that machine. Understand?" Bruce stared at him with deathly seriousness.

Terry swallowed hard. "Got it."

"So that's all there is to it?" Sam asked, more than a little surprised by the simplicity of the plan.

Bruce gave him a look that could have quelled lesser men. "Yes, the more complicated a plan is the more likely it is to fail."

"And what if something does happen? Why am I not going?" Barbara demanded to know.

"Because you're career and life are in enough danger," Bruce gestured briefly at the TV.

Terry glanced over at Max, who was remaining oddly quiet through out the whole argument. "What about getting in? It's supposed to be closed off. I can't sneak all three of us in there."

"There's no need for that. I'll take care of it," Bruce explained.

Behind them, Dick's body shuddered and the vigilante groaned as the sedative's effects once more began to wear off. Bruce reached for another dose but Barbara stayed his hand with a look.

"I want to at least say good bye this time," Barbara said quietly. "In case–." Her words cut off sharply with a shaky breath.

"Babs," Dick's voice sound rusty and shot out.

She was immediately by his side, worry etched on her face and veiled fear in her eyes.

"I'll make it back." Dick said quietly. "I always come back."

Barbara swallowed and looked away. "Yes, you do."

"Where's my mask?" Dick asked, uncomfortable with being so exposed.

Max picked it up off the computer console and brought it over. Dick took it, offering her a tentative smile. "I'm sorry for hurting you," he whispered.

"You don't need to apologize. That wasn't you back there," she assured him as he slipped the mask on once more.

Just that easily he was Nightwing again. Fierce and predatory with his eyes hidden by that one small thing. Barbara leaned over and hugged him before he could withdrawal completely back into himself. He relaxed in her arms, reaching up to hug her tightly. They stayed that way for a long moment as the silence seemed to fill with a thousand unspoken regrets, promises, and declarations. Their good byes were silent as they had always been.

Barbara pulled away, giving him a watery smile, before moving over to allow Bruce to say whatever he intended to.

"Hey, Bruce, if this doesn't all work out...thank you for being a father to me," Dick smiled weakly.

Bruce returned the smile with an uncertain one of his own. Almost like he wasn't sure if he was doing such a simple gesture right. "I'd do it all over again, Dick."

Dick held out his hand. Bruce took it firmly in his own. The two shook hands, both with the same sheepish, bashful sort of expression. Terry found the whole thing somewhat amusing. How could to brilliant people be so emotionally inept at an easy thing like showing affection. But then he really didn't have a whole lot of room to talk either. He glanced over at Max. He still hadn't found the courage to tell her how he felt. He would though. Maybe when all of this was over.

Bruce handed a card to Terry effectively killing that line of thought. Terry glanced down and then back up at Bruce in surprise. The card had his face but claimed he was an inspection agent for Wayne Industries.

"Fake I.D.s?" he grinned.

Bruce didn't even bother to glare. "It will get you in. The security will be expecting. Don't act stupid or suspicious and there won't be any problems."

"Gotcha. And if they do suspect something's wrong?" Terry took the card.

"Improvise...without getting Superman or the police involved. I'm not bailing either of you out of jail," Bruce said blandly.

Terry rolled his eyes. "Alright. I get it."

"C'mon, it's time for you all to get out of here," Barbara told them firmly.

No one dared argue.

B.A.T.M.A.N

"I can't believe they let us in here," Max breathed as they stepped through the old doors of Star Labs with a barely able to walk drugged vigilante leaning on them. Somehow she managed to hang on to the heavy tool box she was also lugging along for the repairs. She didn't trust Terry to handle to tools with the respect they required. "Did they see us bring him in here?"

Terry grinned. "Well, Bruce does own part of the Labs and who's gonna say no to someone who pays your salary. And no, no one saw us."

"Good point. I guess I just expected this to be harder," Max shrugged awkwardly with one shoulder as she struggled to keep Nightwing up right. Nightwing flinched at her movement. He was getting edgier as the time passed and the fear drug began corrupting him further. The tranquilizers probably weren't going to last much longer.

"You alright, Nightwing?" Terry asked, supporting the vigilante's other side carefully. He felt like he was playing with a drugged rapid dog. He couldn't predict when the sedative would wear off and when the next attack would come. It made him decidedly nervous.

"Yeah," Nightwing managed as he walked slowly alongside them both. He was still partially sedated for their own safety and because they were unwilling to send him back completely incapacitated. He also might be able to offer some help in the way of repairs to the machine since he was the one to help break it in the first place.

They navigated through the halls until they came to a door with danger tape stretched across it several times. "Somehow that's not comforting," Terry remarked as he cut it down.

Max glared at him in irritation as she pushed the door open. Both of them stared in shock and Nightwing in relief at the twin massive poles that dominated the center of the room. Their smooth metallic surface had not dulled in the years since it had been locked away. Somehow though instead of being pretty the machine seemed menacing. For some reason Terry was glad they had come during the day.

"It's still here!" Max cried in relief, racing forward to examine the machine eagerly, leaving Terry to support Nightwing. Seeing the schematics on a computer and actually seeing the damage in real life were two different things. Part of her had worried that despite it all the machine had really been dismantled or destroyed. She felt overwhelmingly relieved to know that at least that one fear was ground less. She quickly checked over the equipment to make sure nothing else was broken beyond what had been reported. "It's still in good condition too. Just a few minor repairs, then we'll get the computer running to see if its operational."

Nightwing watched her with half glazed eyes from the drugs still coursing through his system. She moved about with an excited energy only a technological geek could have for this kind of equipment. Max frowned as she surveyed the computer. "Damn, this thing is old. The technology is so outdated. How in the world did they manage to make this thing do something so complicated," Max mumbled. "It's so unwieldy."

"Can you fix it, Max?" Terry asked worriedly.

Max looked up, fiddling with her fingers nervously. "Yeah. It's pretty minor damage. I think they just didn't fix it because they were afraid of it. I mean I don't blame them after the first incident with Lois Lane disappearing and then Nightwing. Who'd wanna touch this thing? It's even freaking me out a little–."

"Max, you're babbling," Terry said softly.

"Sorry. Nerves, I guess," Max took a deep shuddering breath.

Terry reached over and touched her arm gently. "It's alright."

"Ok, let's get this junk heap working again," she smiled brightly as she pulled out the wade of schematics she'd printed from Bruce's computer. She looked back at Nightwing with a wavering attempted reassuring smile. "We'll have you home by the end of the day, Dick."

Relief passed quickly over the older vigilante's face as he leaned more heavily on Terry's arm. Max dropped the tool box on the floor beside the main computer where it had been damaged with a resounding bang. She flipped the lid open and began rummaging through the tools she needed while glancing over at the schematics all the while muttering to herself. Then she settled down to work as quickly as she could.

B.A.T.M.A.N.

"Max, hurry it up a little. He's starting to come around," Terry sounded nervous. He'd long ago made Nightwing sit in the one few remaining chairs and stayed close in case something happened. Nightwing was beginning to tremble as his hands flexed and unflexed into fists. It had been three hours already since Max had begun the repairs. For that time frame she had done a remarkable job to the fractured parts. Still it wasn't going as fast as the tranquilizers going through Nightwing's system which was quickly losing its effects.

Max really couldn't blame him for being nervous. After all Nightwing could kick Batman's ass easily if he

had a mind too. She was just as nervous as him because she'd be the next target on the mad vigilante's list. However being heckled did not make her work faster or help with the stress level."I'm working on it," she snapped.

The energy bars crackled to life for a moment with a loud snap as electricity shot up the length of them. They switched off a second later with a resounding crack and were quiet again. Max growled in frustration. She was quickly running out of ideas. She had fixed everything she could that had been reported broken in the schematics. In theory, the dumb machine should be operational right now. Still it refused to snap to life and stay active.

"Max!" Terry bit out as Nightwing convulsed hard, growling under his breath like a wild dog. Terry gripped the vigilante's arm, trying to steady him.

"I'm trying!" she resisted the urge to hit him.

"Kick or hit it or something!" Terry pressed as Nightwing convulsed again.

She rolled her eyes. "That never works in real life!"

"Yes it does!" he retorted.

She slammed her fist down on the console and spun around to glare at him. "Shut–."

Electricity exploded up the bars again and stayed on with a deep base hum. She stared in shock and Terry couldn't help but smirk. "Told yah so."

"Shove it," she scowled at him. "Let me program in the date we need..." Her fingers raced across the keyboard and in a matter of seconds the date glowed green on the screen in front of her. The machine's hum switched from deep to a higher pitch that seemed to vibrate the air around them. A hazy image of a cleaner side of the same room wavered between the energy bars.

"Are you sure this is gonna jump him backwards?" Terry asked anxiously. "What if he gets stuck somewhere else?"

Max shook her head. "In theory–."

"Enough of theories!" Nightwing snarled, coming fully alert in less than a second. A heartbeat later, he was out of the chair twisting Terry's arm around behind his back and driving the younger vigilante down hard onto the floor. "Outta the way," he growled before sprinting for the beams.

"Wait! Nightwing!" Max shouted.

Terry shot to his feet, racing after him. Terry was just a second to slow to grab him before he dove through the beams. He disappeared in a crackle of explosive energy, causing the hazy image between the bars to waver like light through a glass of water. Terry almost dove in right after him when Max's voice brought him up short.

"Terry, you can't! You promised!" Max yelled.

He skidded to a stop. "I can't just let him go there by himself. We don't know where he ended up! He could hurt someone!"

"If you go I may never be able to get you back. Please, don't go through those bars," Max begged.

Terry shook his head before shedding his outer clothing rapidly. A moment later the batman mask was pulled over his head and he wasn't Terry anymore. He was the Dark Knight. "I have to make sure he's safe, Max." He didn't hesitate as he hurled himself through the energy haze after Nightwing.

B.A.T.M.A.N

Bruce is gonna kill me, he thought as he jumped after Nightwing.

He didn't really know why he did it, but he had a gut feeling that where ever the older vigilante was headed wasn't good. He only hoped Max had fixed the machine properly otherwise they could both literally be stuck in the fifth dimension. He really didn't want to be stuck in no where zone with a murderous vigilante. He had only a few seconds to think about all this before he slammed down hard into a very unforgiving tile floor. A floor that looked thankfully familiar.

He peeled his face off the floor to stare in shock at two familiar yet never before seen faces. In front of him, the gangly figure of Scarecrow and the teenage Robin had paused in what appeared to have been a very intense fight to stare back at the to sudden intruders. Batman blinked and had two seconds to think 'my God, that's really Robin!" Then Nightwing was launching himself at Scarecrow with a terrifying snarl.

Crap! Batman thought scrambling after the rogue vigilante in panic. "Move!" he shouted at Robin as Nightwing came barreling at the two stunned masked individuals. He was pretty sure Nightwing wouldn't care who got in the way of him reaching Scarecrow. He was also pretty sure that whoever did get in the way probably wasn't going to walk away with all parts intact or maybe not at all.

Robin barely managed to dive out of the way before an enraged Nightwing slammed into Scarecrow. The two hit the wall in a loud crunch as plaster cracked beneath the sudden abuse. Batman was only a heart beat behind ripping the rogue vigilante off the immobile form of the gangly criminal before Nightwing could get his hands around Scarecrow's throat. He barely managed to not get impaled on the spikes Nightwing snapped out from the sides of his gauntlet gloves as he struggled to keep the older vigilante at bay. He felt like he was fighting a rapid wild panther and he had a feeling this fight was going to really hurt.

"Quick!" he shouted at Robin. "The cure to the toxin! Find it!"

Robin snapped out of his momentary paralysis at the fight taking place between the strange masked man and his partner like their lives depended on it. He jumped into motion, reaching Scarecrow's side before the criminal had barely begun to regain his senses. He glanced back as he heard a loud crash to see the black suited man go flying into the computer console. Nightwing swung his spike gloved down at the black masked man's head, who just barely managed to dodge out of the way in time not to have a new hole between his eyes. He cringed as Nightwing backhanded the stranger hard across the temple. Robin sensed more than saw Scarecrow struggling to get back up. He spun around and threw a right hook into the criminal's jaw, watching in relish as Scarecrow went down in a tangle of lanky limbs. He grabbed the criminal up by the front of his costume, jerked him up into a sitting position before slamming him back against the wall.

"The cure for the toxin!" he spat. "Where is it?"

Scarecrow leered sickeningly. "There isn't one."

"Bull!" Robin snapped. "Tell me-."

He never got to finish what he was going to say. He felt a blinding flash of pain as someone hit him with the force of a runaway train, throwing him sideways. He skidded across the floor into a desk, seeing star as his head banged off the edge.

Nightwing had already forgotten the small hindrance that had stood in between him and his target. He saw Scarecrow's eyes widen in terror as his hands locked around the criminal's throat. The voices in his head howled like wolves smelling blood as he yanked the lanky man up and off the ground. Everything else faded into the background except for the thought that this man had hurt him. He deserved to pay. Nightwing smiled fiercely as the criminal began to kick his feet in panic as he gasped for air.

Behind him, Batman shook his head hard, trying to shake loose the fuzzy spots in his vision. That hit had nearly knocked him out. He swung his head around to see Nightwing choking the life out of Scarecrow and scrambled into motion. Nightwing was so focused he didn't see the black blur flying at him until he was broadsided. One moment he was standing and the next he was lying on his back staring at the ceiling as pain exploded down his side. Shaking his head and blinking away the dizziness, he scrambled back to his feet. Not in time though to stop Batman from snatching him up in a strangling head lock.

Scarecrow landed hard on his backside after he was ripped violently from his assailant's grip. He'd had just about enough of this kind of abuse. His drugs should have been loaded by now. He figured he'd worn out his welcome. He definitely wasn't going to stay here and let Nightwing try to kill him again. He wasn't sure if the toxin had the desired effect that he wanted since the vigilante was his first test subject. However, it was clear the toxin had a very strong interesting reaction. The desire to figure out what exactly it was did not over ride his survival instincts though. When someone desired him dead he didn't usually like to stick around for it.

He'd barely managed to get to his feet before he was slammed on to his back once more.

"The cure?" Robin smiled down at him.

"You better give it to him quick!" the stranger holding Nightwing pinned yelled. "Or I swear I will let him go and you can find it with his hands wrapped around your neck again!" Nightwing jerked forward just barely restrained by the arm around his throat, he grin so feral on his face Scarecrow was surprised there was no fangs.

Scarecrow's eyes widened in fear again. "I have it! Wait! Wait!" He scrambled through his pockets to find the vial. He produced it a moment later with shaking hands. "Here! Take it!"

Robin snatched it out of Scarecrow's hand and slapped a handcuff around his outstretched hand in one smooth motion. The criminal stared at the masked kid in horror as Robin cuffed him to a near by bolted down desk leg. He had no way to escape if Nightwing got loose again. He cowered back against the wall as Nightwing jerked and twisted to get free.

"Hurry up!" the stranger in black yelped. "I can't hold him like this much longer!"

Robin scrambled in his belt to find the injector gun, yanked it out, and slid the vial inside it. He raced over, just barely missing getting hit by one of Nightwing's fists. He slammed the gun against the side of his partner's neck and pulled the trigger without a second of hesitation. There was a moment where nothing happened. Batman had a horrified moment of thinking that the cure wouldn't work. Then Nightwing went limp like someone had pulled the plug from his power supply and the fierce energy that had been charging him was cut off.

Batman sagged tiredly in relief, shifting Nightwing's weight in his arms to a more comfortable position. Finally, it was over. Nightwing would be back to normal. God, what a wild ride that had been. He prayed he'd never have to fight the older vigilante again. Luck had kept him from dying at Nightwing's hands.

"I'll take him," Robin spoke beside him.

Batman glanced over to see the teen reaching for his partner. "Thanks, kid."

"I'm not a kid!" Robin glared at him as he took Nightwing, supporting the weight of the vigilante on his left shoulder. "Just who the hell are you?"

"I'm Batman," he grinned.

"Riiiiight," Robin smirked, completely unimpressed.. "Where's the cape?"

Batman was saved from finding an answer by the electric thunder that suddenly exploded up the length of the machine's twin energy poles. Robin and Batman cringed then stared in surprise at the image of a hazy, older Star Lab's that shimmered between the poles. A second later a pink haired head followed by half a body appeared through the haze, causing a crackle of electricity to shoot up the length of the poles.

"Max?" Batman blinked.

"Shut it and come on! I've got about ten seconds before this thing shut's down for good!" She snapped at him, holding out her hand.

Batman glanced back at Robin, who looked almost comical trying to support Nightwing and gap between him and Max at the same time. "Thanks, Robin. Tell him I said good bye and that I wish we could have at least been friends under different circumstances. Oh, and tell Barbara I said hi too." He spun around and sprinted forward as the haze between the poles began to twist and swirl. He caught Max's hand as she began to disappear through the haze. He managed to glance back for one last look before Max jerked him back with her.

He didn't resist as the machine kicked him out violently back into the right time. He feel backwards, just barely missing toppling over on top of Max. His back slammed off the floor in a sharp burst of pain. A massive of surge of energy barreled up the poles with an ear shattering scream. Above him the bulbs at the top of the poles shattered in a loud explosion, sending shards of glass flying. He yanked Max towards him and rolled so his body shielded her from any of the flying shrapnel. Glass rained down on his back, breaking on impact with his suit. One more thing he'd have to write down on the list of things that couldn't damage the suit. When the last of the glass tinkled to the floor, she shoved him off and got to her feet.

"You idiot!" she yelled. "What were you thinking jumping through after him! I almost had a heart attack! I just barely got the machine to kick back on long enough to get you back! You could have been stuck back there!" she kicked him angrily after she blurted out those few but telling words.

His eyes widened, barely feeling the pain from her kick as his brain processed what she'd just said. "You were worried about me, Max?" he gave her a goofy grin.

"Yeah, I was worried! I almost lost you!" she half shouted. She uttered a very unladylike curse a moment later before crossing her arms over her chest and scowling at him.

"Hey, Max. I made it back fine. I trusted you to save me," he smiled reassuringly.

"That's not the point," she snapped.

He got to his feet and rested his hand on her arm. "Thank you."

Her shoulders sagged as she looked away. "You're welcome. Don't ever do that again."

"I won't. I promise." And he meant it.


	17. Epilogue

Epilogue

"So you think it's broken for good now?" Terry asked as they both stood staring up at the huge electric pillars.

The explosion that had shattered the globes had left the top of it scorched and parts of it melted. The menacing aura the machine had held before now seemed to have disappeared. Now all it looked like was a piece of junk from some bygone age of technology.

Max shrugged. "I dunno. I fixed it pretty easily. The computer still functions. Who's to say someone couldn't or wouldn't try to reuse it. All I know is I don't want to have anything to do with it ever again. Something like that should never have been built."

"I suppose we should tell Bruce it's finally over. Can I borrow your phone?" Terry sighed. He had since put his street clothes back on over his costume. The security might have found it odd that Batman came out when a tall dark haired guy had been the one to go in. There was no more need for Batman here anyways.

Max handed over her phone and Terry punched in the numbers with practiced ease.

"Yes?" Bruce's gruff voice barked over the phone.

"Bruce, we did it. We sent him back," Terry told the old man with a satisfied smile.

There was a long pause. "Did what? Sent who back where? Where the hell are you?"

"What? Max and I are in Star Labs. We just sent Nightwing back to the past," Terry explained, looking over at Max in confusion.

"Nightwing's been in Bludhaven for the last twenty-five years. You've been missing for the entire afternoon. We've been searching everywhere for you," Bruce growled at him.

Terry scrunched his eyebrows up in bafflement. What the hell? "Bruce, what're you–?"

A sudden look of clarity crossed Max's face and she grabbed his arm to get his attention. She shook her head to cut him off. "Get off the phone."

"Bruce, we'll be back in a few hours. We just had to take care of something," Terry tried to end the call smoothly.

"You better tell me what it was you found so important to worry everyone for," Bruce snapped.

"Right–," the line went dead before Terry could say anything else. "Jeez, crabby much."

"They don't remember anything, Terry. He went back and everything was set back the way it should have been." Max explained to him.

Terry shook his head, still confused. "That doesn't explain why we remember."

"I think it was because we went through the machine. We were in the past and the future so of course we remember. There was a mention of that in Lois Lane's interview about her experiences with the machine." Max told him.

"Ok, I'll buy that," Terry shrugged. "Do you think Nightwing remembers since he went through too?"

Max looked uncertain. "I don't know. Maybe."

"I hope he did." Terry remarked, shoving his hands into his pockets.

"Why?" Max inquired.

"I felt like we kinda understood each other. I'd have liked to know him under better circumstances," Terry answered with some embarrassment. "Besides it seems less crazy if someone else remembers it."

Max rolled her eyes. "That's all that's important right."

"No!" Terry snapped defensively.

"Whatever. You know we still have that paper to do. To bad it's due tomorrow and it's worth 40 of our grade," she said with a sarcastic smile.

"The paper!" he groaned. "We haven't even started it. What are we supposed to do?"

"Chill, Ter," she grinned up at him. "I've already written it. I even dumbed it down to make it look like you helped."

Terry gave her his suffering martyr look. "Haha. Why didn't you just tell me instead of freaking me out?"

"I wanted to make you sweat," she replied, turning away from the machine and walking out of the room.

Terry stood there for a moment later then jogged after her. "When did you get time to write it?"

"Terry, you don't ask a girl to reveal her secrets," she admonished him, glancing back with a smirk.

Terry shook his head as he walked along beside her. He didn't think he'd ever be able to figure her out completely. And seriously, when did she get the time?

B.A.T.M.A.N.

"Terry and Maxine, your paper was very good. Informative, factual, and very well written. I'm very impressed by the information you included as well as the pictures. Your speculation of why Nightwing became a vigilante seems more like actual fact. I'm interested to know where you got your information and how you drew these conclusions?" Mrs. Whitman inquired after the two students had presented their research paper to the class.

Max seemed to puff up a little with pride. "Well, we did a lot of research through old archives in library data bases as well as through old police records, interviews of people that were saved, interviews of perpetrators, and even a few interviews from the hero himself. We tracked his movements through out his entire career (which I had added in the night before this was due, she thought with a smirk) all the way back to when he was Robin. After pulling information from when he first appeared as Batman's partner we estimated his age and began to work out a possible explanation of why such a young boy would want to become a vigilante. It was a lot of information to go through, but it was very rewarding in the end."

"Well, I must say the effort you put into it is very impressive. Terry do you have anything else to add?" Mrs. Whitman turned to the dark haired young man, who'd been standing quietly trying to look like he knew what Max was talking about.

"What can I say? Max is awesome at this kinda of stuff. I helped where she asked me too. I tried not to cramp her style to much," he grinned. "Besides I don't want to get in the way of the girl trying to make valedictorian."

The rest of the class burst out laughing when Max shot him a scathing glare. The teacher smiled, apparently satisfied.

"Well, your enthusiasm is certainly commendable–both of you. Your presentation was very good as well. You both get 100 's on your paper. Excellent job!" Mrs. Whitman beamed at them.

Max and Terry glanced at each other before grinning broadly. "Thank you very much, Mrs. Whitman!" Max exclaimed before they retreated back to their desks. "Jeez, after all that trouble all we get is a freakin' 100 . We should have gotten an award or something." she grumbled as they slid back into their seats.

Terry smirked. "Well, Robin, if you wanted that kind of thank you you're in the wrong business. Playing hero is not a rewarding career."

"Don't call me that," she hissed softly.

He held his hands up in a surrendering gesture. "Whatever you say, Max."

She 'harumphed' loudly before turning her attention to the next presentation, but Terry thought he saw a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

B.A.T.M.A.N.

Max sat next to Terry in the grass out in front of the school. It was to beautiful a day to waste inside in the cafeteria for lunch. Terry was sprawled on his back beside her, one arm thrown over his eyes to block out the sun. It was seemed like the first time in a long time that they had gotten to sit still and just hang out together without some project or crisis looming over their heads.

"It seems kinda surreal, doesn't it?" Max asked, quietly.

Terry lifted his arm and glanced over at her. "You mean with Nightwing?"

"Yeah. I mean yesterday we both nearly got injured or worse because of him. But it looks like nothing happened at all. The school grounds aren't damaged. There's no record of the news reports all over the TV yesterday. Nothing. It seems like some kind of freak dream," she remarked, pulling at the blades of grass under her hand.

"I still have the bruises to prove it if that makes you feel any better," Terry grinned up at her.

Max shook her head and hit him on the shoulder. "You get those every night. That doesn't prove anything."

"What's bothering me," Terry said after a minute, "is whether or not Nightwing remembers or not. If he didn't that wouldn't make any sense at all."

"Yeah, I remembered," a familiar voice cut into the conversation.

Terry bolted upright and stared in shock as Max gapped at the person standing in front of them. Dick Grayson stood a few feet away, dressed all in black, with his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jacket. His hair was cut short and was shot through with streaks of steel gray. His features were worn with age and the harsh life he had lived through. His eyes still shone bright and sharp as ever. Even aged as he was he still had the aura of a man no one dared mess with.

"Looks like you still need some practice in staying vigilant at all times. I snuck up on you way to easy," Dick smirked.

Terry shrugged. "Maybe not but I bet I could get your ass now."

"Sure you could, kid," Dick chuckled then sobered. He glanced away as if he felt uncomfortable suddenly.

Max smiled up at the older man. "We're glad you remembered," she paused, and then asked sadly. "I guess you and Barbara never made it huh?"

"No," Dick answered tensely. After a moment he relaxed again and gave her a sad smile. "I guess no matter what time I was in we just weren't meant to be together." It seemed age had mellowed him out far more than it had Bruce. Bruce would never have answered such a private question.

"At least you gotta a chance," Max said.

Dick nodded, looking uncomfortable again. "Listen, I never got a chance to thank you guys for what you did. Everything all happened very quickly," Dick took a deep breath and let it out with a sigh. "If it weren't for you two–."

"It was worth the bruises," Terry grinned.

"I'm sure. Well anyways...thank you. It seems strange to be saying that 30 years later for an event that 'never' happened," Dick smiled in embarrassment.

Terry looked up at him and answered sincerely. "You're welcome."

"We'd do it again if we had too," Max promised fervently.

Dick nodded and cleared his throat awkwardly. "Look, Terry. No matter what the old man says or anyone else, you are Batman. You proved that. You earned the right to wear that cowl and you earned my respect for what you did for me."

Terry stared in surprise at those honest words before stammering out a thank you.

"Well, I'll be seeing you guys around. If you ever need me...call. Stay safe," Dick imparted before he turned to leave.

"Hey! I could have kicked you butt, I was just holding back," Terry gave him a cocky grin.

Dick shook his head with a laugh. He glanced back, still smiling, "In your dreams, kid."

Terry smiled as the older vigilante disappeared out of sight with the same deft ease he always had. Someday, Terry was gonna figure out how Dick and Bruce did that. Beside him, Max sighed sadly.

"So I guess that's the end then? We won't see him for a while," Max said and looked over at him. She frowned at the sudden awkward hunch of Terry's shoulders. He looked uncertain and that was so rare she felt a sudden sense of unease creep over her.

"Listen, Max, there's something I've been wanting to say to you for a while now," Terry told her in an almost shy voice.

"Yes?"

He paused and bit his lip nervously. "I…I wanted to tell you…"

"Tell me what?" she pressed.

He cleared his throat. "Just that…" He stopped and sighed. He shook his head when she smiled at him encouragingly. How am I supposed to say this to her? He wondered. After a moment of no inspiration, it came to him. He leaned forward and kissed her. It was tentative at first, and he was afraid that he had done the wrong thing when she made no move in return. God, I was such an idiot! What had possessed-? Then Max was kissing him back with a fervor that destroyed all his previous doubts. His hands found her waist and he drew her closer to him, as she slipped her arms around his neck. He was so glad he'd finally worked up the nerve to do that and wondered at how stupid he was to have waited this long for it.

Max pulled back after a minute and smiled at him. "I had wondered how long it would take for you to do that."

"W-what?" Terry stammered.

Max laughed softly. "I think if you'd taken any longer I would have had to beat some sense into you…but then you are kinda dense sometimes."

Terry frowned, looking slightly offended. "And what is that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing, Terry," Max smirked before stealing another kiss.

The End


End file.
